


a thousand lifetimes

by purple01_prose



Category: Epic (2013)
Genre: 30 Days of Writing, Angst, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Drama, F/M, Fae & Fairies, Fae Magic, Family Drama, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Multi, Off-screen Minor Character Death, Prompt Fic, Quiet love stories, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-24
Updated: 2014-01-13
Packaged: 2017-12-15 23:36:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 29
Words: 47,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/855265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purple01_prose/pseuds/purple01_prose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-film. MK, Nod, and Ronin--three lost souls set adrift. Healing, and maybe a path towards love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**01\. Beginning**

_“There is no pain so great as the memory of joy in present grief_.”  Aeschylus

 

 _“There is no grief like the grief that does not speak_.” Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

 

 

She’s only told Nod about her mother’s passing.

 

‘Passing.’ Interesting term. It’s easier to say ‘My mother passed’ than ‘My mother died.’ Saying that she died means having to deal with missing her. If she passes, instead, you wake up and still think she’s around.

 

That conversation went something like this:

 

“Hey, who’s that?” Nod points a picture on her bedside table. It’s the one of her mom and her, cuddled up and smiling for the camera.

 

“My mom.”

 

“Where is she? I mean, she’s not here--.”

 

“She passed. A couple of months ago.”

 

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

 

And Nod is sorry, she knows that—he too lost his dad, but she doesn’t want to explain about lupus, and what it does to your body, and how you ultimately die from it. She’d been driven by a grotesque need to know exactly what lupus was, and how it attacks the body when her mother was diagnosed.

 

She doesn’t want to deal with Nod’s sympathy. She doesn’t even want to deal with her dad’s.

 

“Have you talked to anyone about it?”

 

“No,” MK says shortly. “I don’t need to.”

 

Nod’s brow knots. “MK, I really don’t think--.”

 

“Drop it,” she orders.

 

She doesn’t want to say how she found her mom on the kitchen floor, unconscious with a head wound. She doesn’t want to say how her mom slipped into a coma, and two days later she was gone. She doesn’t want to talk about how she forced herself to put the funeral together (there was no one else to do it), or visited the lawyer, or sold the house and put all of the stuff she wanted in a storage facility that charges her trust fund for upkeep. She doesn’t want to discuss how she’s still planning on going back to the city for school, but she doesn’t know if she can live in the city that she grew up without her mom.

 

There’s so much she doesn’t want to say. So she won’t.

 

Her dad still checks in her periodically. She thinks he’s watching for suicidal impulses, but she’s not exactly suicidal. She’s not—she flinches— _depressed_. She—doesn’t feel anything. It’s locked away behind stainless steel doors, with multiple padlocks. If she lets herself unlock it, she’ll deal with all of that anger and unhappiness—that she actually still hates living with her dad, because he puts food next to pesticides (even though she’s _told_ him), and that he still pays more attention to his monitors than to her. The Leaf-Men are the only worthwhile thing about living out here, and they live faster than she does. Does that mean they age faster? What if she goes to check the monitors one day, and no one answers, because Nod and Ronin are gone and the next generation doesn’t know her?

 

That may just kill her.

 

But mostly, she hates living with her dad because he’s not her mom. The moment she realizes that, she stuffs is behind those doors and locks, because that, at least, is unfair.

 

So Nod is sweet, trying to help her deal with all of this, but she doesn’t want to deal with this. It’s easier not to. It’s easier to be MK, smiling girl who makes Boggan chew toys for her dog and keeps charge of the kitchen and teaches dance at the rec center to bring in some cash.

 

She doesn’t want to be MK, daughter of a dead woman.

 

She goes through this for some time, all the way up until her eighteenth birthday, on the twenty-seventh of July. She has a little over a month before she goes to school (and Dad’s already talking about setting up long-distance sensors she can still talk to Ronin, Nod, and Mub. Her room’s a single, so she doesn’t have to worry about nosy roommates), and she’s starting to prepare.

 

It’s her eighteenth birthday, and her dad doesn’t remember.

 

He’s her _dad_ , he’s supposed to remember, and she remembers what her mom’s plans were, and that just—overwhelms her.

 

She snaps at Nod (and immediately feels bad about it, but he’s already gone), and she just—needs a moment.

 

The room’s too close. It’s still brightly, offensively pink, and she needs something that doesn’t feel like she’s being caged in her childhood.

 

MK opens the window and crawls onto the roof. It’s been replaced within the last two years (she doesn’t know where Dad got the money—maybe Grandma Lyse helped him out), but it’s dry and out of the house. The night breeze is a little chilly, and she wraps her hoodie more securely, pulling up her hood. She puts in her earbuds, trying to find that perfect song to deal with this.

 

She mostly scrolls through her instrumental stuff.  She finally finds some Hans Zimmer that sounds appropriately doom-y and gloom-y, leaning her head back on the roof and closing her eyes.

 

The Hans Zimmer has changed into John Williams before she feels an earbud rudely yanked out. Her eyes snap open (she’s learned not to sit up abruptly, since Nod’s fond of curling against her head), and she sees Ronin standing above her, arms folded. This close, she doesn’t need the helmet see him (though he’s still blurry), but she sees he’s got his arms folded as she pulls out the other one. “What did you say to Nod?”

 

“Is he really upset? I’m really sorry, I was already pissed and he just--.” got in the way.

 

“No, he’s not upset,” Ronin sighs, but he’s not relaxing his position. “He just told me to talk to you, since you won’t listen to him. What does that even mean?”

 

“He wants me to be all sharing is caring,” MK says, watching Ronin carefully. “I just—can’t.”

 

“And that led you to snapping at him?”

 

“Today’s my eighteenth birthday,” she says, looking away from him to look up at the night sky. Out here, there’s almost no light pollution, and the stars are super bright. “My dad forgot.”

 

“Eighteen...is that an important date for your people?” She feels the rustle that means Ronin’s sat down, instead of standing and frowning at her. There’s a slight pressure on her shoulder.

 

“Yeah. It means we can vote, enlist in the military, and live on our own. We’re legally considered adults by the time we turn eighteen.”

 

“Hm. It hurts you that your father has forgotten this.”

 

“Annoys more than it hurts,” she sighs. “He’s my dad, but he’s always been absent-minded. I didn’t remind him.”

 

“A parent should remember their child’s birthday without reminders,” Ronin says. He’s still speaking slowly, and she’s grateful for it.

 

“Well, yeah, but it hurts too, because my mom and I made all of these plans--.” She shuts up. Don’t unlock those padlocks, MK.

 

“Where is your mother? I do not believe I’ve ever heard you speak of her.”

 

“She’s...gone.”

 

“Have you considered going after her, since you miss her?”

 

“Gone as in _dead_ , Ronin.” She can feel the panic rising up, and her breathing picks up accordingly. “My mom died in May.”

 

“I’m so sorry,” Ronin says at last. “But you need to breathe.”

 

MK laughs slightly, but she cuts herself off before it can turn into a sob. “I’ve been _trying_ , god, I feel like I’ve done nothing _but_ breathe.”

 

“No, breathe right now,” Ronin instructs. “You’re having a panic attack.”

 

MK breathes in and out at Ronin’s instruction, but locks are coming undone. She’s held too much in for too long, and the grief won’t be contained any more.

 

And it’s grief. She doesn’t know why she’s so surprised.

 

The lump rises in her throat, and she sits up carefully—the faint pressure that means Ronin leaves her shoulder and jumps to her knee—and the tears come in a hot rush. She presses her hand to her mouth and screws her eyes shut, because why _now_ , when she has an audience? Why not when she’s alone? Her hand muffles her sobs, but it doesn’t stop the shakes, and she wouldn’t be surprised if Ronin chose to leave, to give her space. That’s what her friends in high school did.

 

Her sobs don’t stop for a long time, but she hopes her dad isn’t hearing this. She doesn’t want to talk to him about this.

 

When she can finally calm down a little, though the tears are still slipping down her cheeks, she opens her eyes. The wind is still blowing, and it makes her cheeks cool.

 

Ronin’s still there.

 

She blinks. “Why are you still here?” she croaks, coughing to get rid of the lump.

 

“Is there a reason I shouldn’t be?”

 

“Most people don’t stay.”

 

Ronin gives her a Look. “I’m not most people.”

 

“Well, obviously,” she points out, laughing a little.

 

“Tell me about your mother,” Ronin orders, jumping back onto her shoulder.

 

“She was taller than me,” MK offers, “but then, I’m pretty average on the height scale when it comes to Stompers. She loved to laugh, and would sometimes prank me or her friends just to be able to laugh. She could never keep it a secret, though—the joke was too good.” Oh, this hurts.

 

Ronin touches her cheek quickly, before retracting his hand. “You must lance the wound, MK.”

 

She rolls her eyes at him, but continues, “She loved all of the British poets—she had a friend who did calligraphy, so that friend would write her favorite poems and get them framed. I have them in storage—I don’t have the same love for John Keats, William Blake, Lord Byron, John Donne, and Elizabeth Barrett Browning that she did, but she loved them, so I keep them. She was an English major in college, and she worked for Random House in New York City—that’s a book publisher. She was the Editor-in-Chief for Young Adult fiction. She ran the entire department.” She falls silent. Her mom would bring her advance copies of things she thought MK would like. Some she did, some she didn’t, but they were something she and her mom shared. “She never told me about how she met my dad, though her scrapbooks from college place it around then. He hurt her when he didn’t choose us, so she tried not to talk about him except when I asked.”

 

“How did she pass?”

 

“It was lupus—a disease that turns your own body against you. There can be a long time between diagnosis and it killing you, and she and I had planned on her making it to my wedding, but in April she took a turn for the worse. She went into the hospital in late April, and she died two weeks later.”

 

“Was there anyone that you could have relied upon during this time?”

 

MK shakes her head. “No. She at least had created a living will when she was diagnosed, so putting the funeral together wasn’t hard, but I had to do everything. The lawyer, Eunomia Droit, helped me with selling the house and putting things in storage, but she told me I had to live with my dad unless he washed his hands of his responsibility to me, and then I would be a ward of the state until I turned eighteen. Here I am, with my dad, on my eighteenth birthday, and I have no idea where I’m going from here. I don’t want to go to school, but I don’t want to stay with my dad.”

 

“Why are you still here then, and not back in the city?”

 

MK looks at Ronin. “Because of you guys. Our little adventure through the woods helped, in a weird, side-ways way. Though my dad thinks you live faster, so you could--,” her throat closes up, and she can’t say it.

 

Ronin rolls his eyes. “We’re immortal, MK. We die only if we’re killed or consent to dying. We do age,” he gestures to himself, “but it’s a much slower process. You shouldn’t believe your father on everything.”

 

“But you’re blurry and move more quickly than us,” MK argues.

 

Ronin snorts. “And you move terribly slow to us. We live differently than you do, but we have a different history. At times our history intersects, but most of the time, your people and mine run on parallel lines. Your father has theories to suit what he suspects to be true. That does not mean the theories are actually true.”

 

“That makes sense,” MK says at last, wiping at her face. Her eyes are burning—therefore she has cried a _lot_ —and the wind makes her face cold, but she feels—better. The weight’s still there, but she had been repressing so hard she didn’t realize how heavy the weight was until it lightened. “Thank you.”

 

“We don’t require much sleep, and the Queen has made it clear you’re welcome in Moonhaven any time,” Ronin says, jumping down to her knee.

 

“Only the queen?”

 

“Well. Nod and I may have put forth some convincing arguments.”

 

MK smiles. “Thank you. For listening. You didn’t have to do that.”

 

“Yes, I did,” Ronin tells her. “But you are welcome nonetheless. Now sleep. You will feel better.”

 

“I thought Leaf-Men didn’t need much sleep.”

 

“You’re still a Stomper. You take the cake by definition.”

 

“Oh please,” she rolls her eyes. “Isn’t that a bit speciesist?”

 

“Is it?” She watches Ronin jump off the roof (carefully), and she mutters, “ _Always_ has to have the last word.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, just to make something very clear: I identify with MK. A lot. So when she talks about how she represses and then how she grieves? I'm going through that right now. If you don't think it's realistic, I disagree. 
> 
> Also, she's still very bitter about Bomba. Part of it is the grief speaking (which she recognizes), but Bomba's also human and habits of at least 15-17 years are hard to break. He's trying, but while his trying is REALLY obvious to him, to other people, it's not. 
> 
> I believe that Bomba's obliviousness comes from a place of selfishness, and selfishness can cause a lot of damage to a child. He wants his research more than he wanted his family, and while he has MK (and fought to get her back), it still takes Work, and since he's never done that kind of Work, he slips up more often than not. 
> 
> I tend to write things for 30 Days a couple of 'drabbles' at a time, so I may post tomorrow, or I could post in a week. I've got two other projects and another fic prompt due, so this will be sporadic, but I'm excited. I've been looking forward to this for a while. Track ot3: six hands are better than two on my tumblr, if you're interested.


	2. Chapter 2

**02\. Accusation**

MK stares at the kitchen. “Dad? Were you experimenting in the kitchen again?”

 

Dad sticks his head in, sees her facial expression. “Ye—no.”

 

“Dad, we’ve talked about this,” MK says exasperatedly, propping her hands on her hips. “No hazardous materials in the same place we prepare food!”

 

“It wasn’t _that_ hazardous,” her dad starts.

 

“Dad! That _doesn’t matter_. What happens if you get sick, or me? We don’t have health insurance!”

 

“None of it’s lethal--.”

 

MK stares. “Are you seriously justifying this? Are you seriously talking about this like that?”

 

“Honestly, MK,  you’re making a big deal out of this.”

 

MK sighs. “Dad, adjusting your life doesn’t just mean talking to me. It’s about changing unhealthy habits, too. _This_ is an unhealthy habit. It may not kill us, but it could cause lasting damage. Dad, I _dance_. I can’t afford to eat anything that could harm how my body runs.”

 

“Fair enough, Mary—MK,” Dad says, cheeks reddening as he rubs the back of his neck. “I’ll try to remember.”

 

MK tries, and fails, not to think that most parents don’t need to _try_ to remember. They already do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I recognize this is short, but this is a more cynical take on MK and Bomba's relationship post-film. It takes time to change habits, healthy or not, but the interim can be incredibly damaging, and while Bomba thinks he's making huge changes, to other people, it looks like he's barely trying. 
> 
> There is a purpose to this, as cynical as this is. Just hang on, okay?


	3. Chapter 3

**03\. Restless** _and_ **04\. Snowflake**

It’s approaching mid-August, and she hasn’t made her decision yet about whether she’s staying or going. Things with Dad are getting easier, inch by painful inch, but it’s not happening quickly enough to suit.

 

It gets chilly at night, even if it’s as hot as fuck during the day, and she stands on the porch with her pink hoodie on, hoodie over her head, watching the sun go down.

 

The insects are already out (and it’s a good thing she likes cicadas, because they are _loud_ ), and she can see some bats swooping in the twilight. She smiles to see them play, because she likes bats (and she does donate to Bat World Sanctuary when she has the cash, thank you very much).

 

One bat lashes out at another, and the second bat falls the ground. MK steps forward, remembering that it’s hard for bats to take off from the ground, but hesitates, because if bats smell of humans--.

 

She has to take the risk.

 

The bat’s laid out on the grass, wings askew, and she trembles as she gets closer, because something’s wrong. The bat is small, barely an adult, and it looks up at her as she gets close and kneels down. There’s a gash on its wing, and it looks painful. It’s certainly bleeding. “Shh,” she says softly, “I need you to stay calm, okay?”

 

The bat cheeps, but it doesn’t fight her as she picks it up carefully, trying not to jostle its hurt wing. The bat’s shivering in her hands, and she wonders if that’s shock. If it is, she needs to keep the bat warm, so she carefully draws the bat to her chest as she walks back to the house.

 

“Dad,” she calls in a harsh whisper. The bat’s ears flex against her chin. “ _Dad_.”

 

“MK, what is it?” Her dad takes a step out of the study. “What have you got there?”

 

“A hurt bat. Can you help?”

 

“Maybe,” her dad says, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Bring it in here.” She follows through the doorway to watch him push stuff off the table, bringing a light and magnifying glass over. He puts a towel down (a _clean_ one), and gestures for her to place the bat on it. “Huh,” Dad says after a moment, pulling on a pair of gloves and carefully extending the bat’s wings. The bat cheeps in protest, but otherwise doesn’t do anything, which makes her suspect the bat’s used to...maybe not people, but used to being handled. “This is a silver-haired bat.”

 

“So?”

 

“How did this happen?” her dad says absently, bringing the light over to the gash in the wing.

 

“I saw some bats flying around, and then I saw a bigger bat attack this one. It fell, and since it didn’t get back up, I checked.”

 

“How much bigger?”

 

“Bigger,” MK says emphatically, “but not huge, like a hoary bat or something.”

 

“I have the rabies vaccination,” Dad says, going to a drawer. “I work with some of the bat rehabbers in the area, since I run across injured bats all the time.”

 

That’s right—when Dad isn’t looking for tiny people in the woods, he’s a bat behaviorist. “So can you heal it?” MK asks anxiously when he returns with an alcohol swab and a tiny syringe.

 

“Fascinating thing about bats, if we keep them warm and fed, they’ll heal on their own as long as they rest,” Dad assures her, rubbing down the bat’s tummy and carefully holding it in place. The bat cheeps once when he inserts the needle of the syringe, but it’s quick. “This bat is an adolescent silver-haired, so--,” he lifts the bat up carefully, “ _she_ can eat regular food, but it’ll need to be meal worms and such. The pet shop should still be open—I’ll see what I can get,” he tucks his wallet into his pocket and looks at her. “Oh, and MK? Don’t name her. She belongs with her own kind, not with us.”

 

“What should I do while you’re out?”

 

“Get her into a box with something warm, and then a thin towel on top of that. Make sure she stays warm and has plenty of water. This shouldn’t take long.”

 

\--

 

Within a couple of days (and on a water-and-meal-worm diet), the bat heals right up. MK learns how to handle her so she can be fed, and then how to stimulate bowel movements (and wasn’t _that_ a joy). She was still young enough to be groomed by Mom, so MK took it over.

 

Despite her dad’s warning, she grows attached. The little bat doesn’t have a name, but she’s so cute, and she likes MK, crawling up between MK’s breasts at night and resting there. She figures it’s warm there, and lets the bat stay.

 

She doesn’t see Nod or Ronin during those few days. Nod had warned her that they were going on a training mission to the other side of the forest, and would be gone for several days, maybe over a week. At the time, she had panicked, but now she’s glad, but she doesn’t know what they would make of the bat.

 

Given that Mandrake and his people ride bats, it probably wouldn’t be good.

 

Once the bat’s wing heals, MK lets the bat out, in that she physically takes the bat outside and holds up her hand so the bat can take flight. The bat flaps her wings and is gone, and it’s stupid to miss her, but she does.

 

Added to all of that, MK’s veins still hum with the magic of the forest. She hadn’t noticed it, initially, but now that she’s paying attention, it’s actually really noticeable. She can feels the hum of growing things around her, and the moon’s phases affect her energy level and general confidence. Waxing to full moon, she’s happy and bubbly. Waning to new, she’s tired and wants to crawl under a rock.

 

Even her period’s synced to it now.

 

What it does mean in practical terms is that on those three nights of the full moon, she’s itchy. She wants to dance, but she doesn’t want to dance alone. Those nights, she can’t sleep.

 

The night she releases the bat is a full moon. 

 

She stands in the clearing, drinking in the moonlight, and she thinks she hears a fiddle start up, and before she knows it, she’s jumping to one side and letting the music flow. She must be imagining the golden sparkles that fill the small meadow, but as the fiddle music grows louder, she dances even more, laughing and smiling. It doesn’t feel like _she’s_ in control of her body, but she doesn’t care as she tosses her arms about. She is the dancer and the fiddle, strung out, and she dances until the sun comes up.

 

She sleeps all day and wakes up in time to do it again.

 

* * *

 

The bat is back. MK stares.

 

The bat has curled her little feet on the edge of MK’s desk chair, and she’s asleep. MK stares some more, and then goes and gets her dad.

 

Her dad is fairly blasé about it. “Let her out tonight, she probably won’t be back,” he says with a wave of his hand.

 

MK lets her out. She comes back.

 

This continues for a week when both she and her dad come to the conclusion the bat is here to stay, and for the first time, MK really looks the bat over. The silver hair she’s named for goes down her back, but her front is all black, except for one spot on the center of her chest. It forms—MK squints—the shape of a snowflake.

 

“How about Snowflake?” she asks the bat one night when she flies back in (silver-haired bats are early fliers, and thus early to return. She doesn’t go to sleep right away, enjoying some cuddle time with MK). “Does Snowflake work for you?”

 

The bat cheeps. MK grins. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

 

Ronin and Nod get back from their trip (Nod has a new scar on his chin and down his neck, while Ronin looks the same as ever), and MK forgets to tell them about her houseguest.

 

When she re-enters her room after a forage for snacks, she finds Snowflake clutching the walls while Nod aims a bow. Ronin’s creeping on the other side, and MK’s plate drops to the floor with a crash, and all three players of the scene look to her. “No,” she orders Nod and Ronin. “Leave her alone.”

 

Nod drops the bow and jumps onto her bed, but Ronin’s harder to convince. “That’s one of Mandrake’s bats,” he says stubbornly.

 

MK blesses her father and his love for tinkering. Without her earbuds, she couldn’t hear them. “No, she isn’t. A bat attacked her, and she fell in the field. I took her inside, and my dad tended to her, and now she’s imprinted on me or something.”

 

Ronin looks less than impressed. “Bats are vermin.”

 

MK sighs. “She’s actually very clean, now that her wing is healed. Come on, soldier man, lighten up. She hasn’t hurt me. We actually snuggle.”

 

“Soldier man?” Ronin repeats, and Nod laughs.

 

MK elects to ignore him and chirps to Snowflake, who flies down to her hand. When MK sits down on the bed, Nod scrambles over. “Nod, this is Snowflake. Snowflake, this is Nod. He’s a friend,” she says to the bat. “He’s sorry about the bow thing. Aren’t you?”

 

“Yes,” Nod says, offering his hand for Snowflake to sniff. She does so, delicately, and then buries her face in MK’s palm.

 

“Grouchy bear down there is Ronin,” she goes on, “he’s also a friend, which means he won’t attack you. Right?”

 

Ronin’s sigh is deep and dramatic. “I will defend myself,” he grumbles, before adding, “No, Snowflake, I will not attack you.”

 

“Good, are we all friends?”

 

“Friendly enough,” Nod grins.

 

“So how was your trip?”

 

“Awful,” Nod sighs.

 

“Productive,” Ronin says, jumping onto the bed and examining Snowflake carefully. She watches him serenely, tucking her wings in. “We gained what intel we required.”

 

“How’s the new queen?”

 

“Holding up okay,” Nod shrugs, sprawling out on MK's bed after he removes his helmet. “She gets overwhelmed a lot, but she’s doing okay.”

 

“She is adjusting rather well,” Ronin says grudgingly. “She wants to hear stories of the brave Leaf-Men.”

 

“Which we don’t mind,” Nod says, waving a hand. He’s on his back, staring up at her ceiling, where she has paintings of the constellations.

 

“Which _he_ doesn’t mind,” Ronin corrects. His shoulders have slumped, and he looks tired. Snowflake chirrups and flies back to her perch on MK’s side table, tucking herself in the corner, and falls asleep immediately.

 

“Have you been getting enough rest?” MK asks with concern, moving aside so that Ronin can sprawl out if he wants to.

 

“Yes,” Nod says.

 

Ronin rolls his eyes. “Enough. The transition has been difficult—the Boggans may be leaderless, but that doesn’t mean they’re not a threat.”

 

“Do you guys want to stay here tonight?” MK offers, “I mean, I have the space, and you could just rest without responsibilities and everything.”

 

“How cool--,” Nod starts, but Ronin cuts him off.

 

“We can’t stay,” Ronin says, almost apologetic. “The queen feels safer when we’re there.”

 

“But you guys need a break, too,” MK argues softly. When Ronin glances at Snowflake, she realizes he doesn’t want to stay where a potential enemy may lurk. She sighs internally. Only time will get him to realize Snowflake isn’t a threat.

 

“I am her General,” Ronin shakes his head, smiling slightly. “I cannot take breaks.”

 

If she was their size, or he her size, she would smack him on the shoulder. She settles for a glare. “Oh please.”

 

“Did you enjoy the full moon?” Nod changes the subject. “Wasn’t it beautiful?”

 

“Do you guys get the urge to dance at the full moon?” When Ronin stares at her, she drops her head. “Stupid question, sorry.”

 

Nod props himself up on his elbows. “No, it’s not a stupid question.” He looks at Ronin. “I thought there wouldn’t be--.”

 

“Obviously not,” Ronin says. He looks up at MK. “We dance every full moon. Since you were changed by Tara’s magic, you’re still affected by it, slightly. It should fade.”

 

“And if it doesn’t? I can’t dance all night for three nights in a row when I’m in school,” MK argues.

 

“So you’ve made your decision then,” Ronin’s gaze is direct, and she looks away from it.

 

“No, I haven’t, but the point still stands. I can’t dance all night for three nights in a row.”

 

“What decision?” Nod asks, but they ignore him.

 

“I don’t do magic, remember?” Ronin crosses his arms, but he looks thoughtful instead of grumpy. “I’ll ask the queen. She may know.”

 

“The sooner the better,” MK says fervently. “I like to dance, but not like that.”

 

“Did you feel like you were being compelled?”

 

“Yeah, actually, I did,” she replies with dawning realization.

 

Ronin inclines his head. “That is how we feel, but it is something all of us feel, from the time we are very young, so we do not usually hate it.”

 

“Well, I do,” MK grumbles, and from Ronin’s look of commiseration, she can tell he feels the same.

 

“We must go before the moon sets,” Ronin says, jumping from the bed to the bedpost, and then to the windowsill. “Come, Nod.”

 

“I swear, I’ll tell you about our adventures tomorrow,” Nod promises, following Ronin out.

 

“I’m looking forward to it,” MK laughs, watching them go. Snowflake’s still asleep, and she realizes she should be, too. She lies down on her bed, not bothering to take off her clothes, and falls asleep immediately. Dancing all night for three straight nights have their cost, even if she loved the dance at the time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the whole dancing-during-the-full-moon is a Seelie thing. In some places where the Seelie are thought to reside, on the nights of the full moon (so the lore goes), if you go out, you could be pulled into their dance. I always thought that would be cool. Since Epic is really the story of the Seelie vs the Unseelie, I thought it couldn't hurt to bring in Seelie lore.
> 
> Other Seelie lore may come in handy, particularly the stories of Puck. I'm not making any promises, but it would be helpful to know his background.
> 
> BTW, what Bomba says about the bat's wing healing up--that has been found to be true. Also, if you find an injured bat, DO NOT HANDLE IT WITHOUT GLOVES. Bats are known vectors for rabies, and MK takes a huge risk here (but the bat is in fact a deserter of Mandrake's army, and Mandrake's bats don't carry rabies--this is headcanonical law), but you SHOULD NOT. If you find an injured bat, call an animal rescue or Fish and Wildlife. They will tell you what you need to do, and they may come to retrieve the bat or ask you to bring it in. Since bats are known vectors, if you find an injured bat, don't leave it around children or old people or pets. A cat's bite could kill a bat, thanks to bacteria in the saliva. Just call Animal Services.


	4. Chapter 4

**05\. Haze**

_“Helen, I have brought you a lily today for the roses were frail and their petals flew away/the morning mist has kissed your grave/rest now and sleep/our secrets will keep/ ‘til we speak again tomorrow._ ” –The Graveyard, _Jane Eyre_ (Paul Gordon, composer)

 

MK wraps her bathrobe around her more tightly, sitting on the steps as the sun hits her garden as it rises. Fog had crept in some time earlier, and it creates an interesting light effect, throwing all of her flowers and vegetables into some kind of halo.

 

If she’s going to NYU, she has to decide in two days. She’s been alternatively thinking on it and pushing it away, but if she still wants her housing deposit back, she has two days.

 

Snowflake’s asleep. MK envies her.

 

There’s a little spot of green jumping out of the forest, through the garden, finally resolving into the blurred figure of Nod. He jumps onto her knee, and then her left shoulder. “Hey.”

 

“Hey,” she says tiredly. Her hair’s loose around her shoulders, and he tugs on a little bit of it to catch his balance. “What’s up?”

 

“What did Ronin mean the other night, about the decision you have to make?”

 

“I haven’t decided whether I’m going to school,” she says, tucking her hair behind her right ear.  “My mom wanted me to, but I--,” she looks out into the garden. “I can’t decide.”

 

“Why?”

 

“New York City—it’s where I grew up. My mom’s memory is everywhere there. I even chose NYU instead of SUNY Purchase or anything because then I’d be close to her. I’d live in the dorm, but I wouldn’t be leaving her. I can’t imagine living in New York City without her.”

 

“And?” Nod prods, tugging on her hair when she pauses for a beat too long.

 

“I can’t leave you guys,” she blurts, startled into confession. Her heart starts to beat too fast as anxiety rises up, but she’s already started, and she has to continue. “Your way of life—it’s not for everyone, but I can’t imagine living my life without you guys there. And it’s not just the dancing all night thing. Like, the idea of coming home and not telling you guys about the stupid shit my dad pulled or opening my window and Snowflake not flying in or listening to you and Mub insult each other—I can’t live without that.”

 

“So don’t,” Nod shrugs.

 

“Easy for you to say,” she snorts.

 

“No, I’m serious,” Nod persists. “Are you saying you want to come back? That may be doable.”

 

“I don’t know if I want to come back,” MK hedges. It’s a more dangerous world than hers, and she would have a lot to adjust to, and she doesn’t know if that could be a thing.

 

But it’s a better life.

 

She can _feel_ Nod peering at her. “Are you sure about that?”

 

She huffs, blowing a bang out of her face. “I’m not sure about _anything_ , Nod. Part of me says I should go to school, make my mom happy, but another part of me never wants to leave the forest. Do you know how easily I get stuff to grow now? Whenever I go into the forest, I hear the wind whispering to me. I can’t—humans were never meant to have this kind of magic, Nod. I can’t adjust.”

 

She feels like she can’t see anything clearly unless she’s in the forest, and then her vision is hyperaware of everything. She can pick out the grain of the bark of the trees.

 

She feels overwhelmed all of the time. She can’t imagine how she’d feel in New York City.

 

Nod scrambles off her shoulder and onto her knee. “Try centering yourself,” he offers. “Focus on one thing at a time, and block out everything else.”

 

“You say it like it’s easy,” she rolls her eyes.

 

“Of course it’s not—that’s why you have to center yourself. Focus on one sense and one thing. Pick something.”

 

MK looks around, but the wind is starting to blow the fog away, and the rising sunlight is in her eyes, and she can smell the coffee her dad is brewing and—“I can’t.”

 

“Try,” Nod urges. “Close your eyes. Just—listen to the wind. You said it whispers stories to you. Just listen to it.”

 

She grumbles at him, but she closes her eyes and listens. “Block out everything except the wind,” Nod instructs as the wind whistles through the porch. “Block out...”

 

The wind is whispering a story to her again, this time of a man who should have died but didn’t, and how his wound left the land fallow and unable to grow. The man stayed by a river, fishing, until the same man who injured him the first place came back and killed him, but this time the man accepted death and let—“ _be wary I am coming for you_ ,” she hears a voice purr, and she snaps out of it, gasping.

 

Nod grabs onto her robe. “What? What is it?”

 

“Did you hear that?” she gasps, looking around the porch for the source of the voice. “I swear, something just said that--.”

 

“I didn’t hear anything,” Nod says carefully. “Were you blocking out everything?”

 

Frustration rises. “Yes, I was, okay, I was! The wind was telling me a story about a man who should’ve died but didn’t, and then, out of nowhere, this _voice_ tells me to be careful, they’re coming for me!”

 

“Describe this voice,” Nod says tersely.

 

“I—there wasn’t much. It was a—rich voice, I guess, and it was purring. Whatever it was, it was looking forward to it.” MK rubs her arms. Even through her robe, she’s cold. “What’s happening to me, Nod?”

 

Nod sighs. “I don’t know.” He pats the top of her knee, probably the closest he can get to rubbing her shoulder or grabbing her hand. “I wish I did, but I don’t.”

 

MK shudders. “I don’t know how much more of this I can take,” she admits. “It’s like there’s a breaking point, but I don’t know what it is.”

 

“We’ll figure this out,” Nod promises, his face set. “I swear.”

 

She looks down at his blurred figure and wishes she can trust his promises. “Has this ever happened before?”

 

“Nim will know. I’ll talk to him. Just—don’t do anything rash until I come back, okay? Don’t make your decision yet.”

 

“I don’t even know if I can,” she mutters, “but okay. Remember, Nod—two days.”

 

“I’ll remember. I’ll come back soon, okay? And don't worry--we'll figure this out.” She watches him jump off her knee, heading into the garden.

 

If only it was that simple.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seelie magic and human bodies were not meant to be put together. This is the beginning of that whole arc, and I'd like to hear who you think that voice is--and it may not be the obvious choice. *grins* Let me know!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for some violent dream imagery, including blood and dead bodies.

**06\. Flame**

Snowflake cheeps at MK. She rolls over to stare at the bat. Tomorrow, she has to tell NYU if she’s checking in. She has less than twelve hours, and Nod hasn’t gotten back to her.

 

She’s choking on her anxiety.

 

The bat flits around the room, coming to a stop on the wall. MK frowns at her. “Snowflake?”

 

The window’s open, and there’s a weird smell to it. She looks out, and sees smoke rising from the direction of Moonhaven. She clutches the windowsill. That kind of smoke implies something nefarious, so she straps on her helmet and earbuds, racing out the door.

 

“MK? Where are you--?”

 

She’s never run in the forest as the sun is setting, and normally she wouldn’t, but if something’s wrong at Moonhaven, she has to go.

 

Time seems to slow down, and the earth itself seems to be sucking at her feet. The wind caresses her face and murmurs about how she belongs to it, and she trips over a root, face-planting in damp ground, and when she sits up, the dirt is clinging to her face and she sees a line of Jinn corpses, with Ronin and Nod at the very head of the line—

 

MK sits upright in bed. The smell of smoke lingers, and she realizes it’s coming from downstairs, so she pushes aside the terror from her dream and heads down the stairs, tugging her robe on as she goes.

 

Her dad’s staring at the stove, which is currently smoking. “Dad, what did you do?” she asks slowly, reaching for the fire extinguisher.

 

“I was just trying to warm something--.”

 

“Dad, don’t open the door--.”

 

Too late. Her dad scrambles back as flame roars out. He’s not even singed, but sweat stands out on his forehead, and she pushes past him, pointing the fire extinguisher at the oven and putting out the fire with the foam. By the time the fire’s gone, she sees that he tried to heat something up on one of the baking sheets. It’s ruined now, but she can’t figure out what he was trying to make.

 

“Thank goodness you were here, MK,” her dad sighs, getting up off the floor and blotting his forehead with his sleeve. “I don’t understand how that could have happened.”

 

She breathes in, breathes out. “Dad, you can’t play around with this kind of stuff,” she says evenly, to prevent losing her temper. “This is a house made of _wood_.”

 

Dad wraps an arm around her shoulders. “Thank you,” he says sincerely. “I’ll be more careful in the future.”

 

She bites her tongue on the thought that he already should have. “Yeah, okay dad.”

 

She heads back upstairs, where the light from the setting sun is bathing her room. She talked to Nod this morning—she hasn’t seen him since, and her stomach is a solid knot of nerves, but she doesn’t know if it’s from her ongoing anxiety about NYU or the dream she had.

 

Her dreams haven’t been normal since she returned from Moonhaven.  They’ve been more vivid, more...sensational. She can still feel the imprint of whatever she’s touched when she wakes up. She can smell and taste things in her dreams. Even the colors and plots are more vivid. Back home, her dreams would follow along fairly usual routes, typical save-the-world, sometimes not-safe-for-work, but they weren’t memorable.

 

She dreams more often now, and she remembers her dreams from almost every night without the aid of a dream journal. They follow recurring themes—isolation, loneliness, loss, but sometimes she gets a good dream where she’s having fun or doing something that makes her feel content.

 

Those dreams _always_ star Nod or Ronin or both.

 

She doesn’t have to be a psychologist to know what her subconscious is trying to tell her. She just doesn’t know if she’s ready to deal with that epiphany yet.

 

An hour after her father’s mishap, Snowflake returns, her little belly bulging as she flies onto her perch and settles down. She cheeps affectionately at MK before falling asleep, and not too long after the moon’s risen, she’s startled from her book by Nod and Ronin.

 

“Tell him what you told me,” Nod orders.

 

Once again, MK blesses her earbuds. “I’ve been having trouble focusing on things unless I’m in the woods, and then I’m hyperaware of everything,” she starts quietly. “I can hear the wind telling me stories, and during a focusing exercise this morning, while the wind was telling me a story about a man who should’ve died but didn’t, there was this voice.”

 

“A voice? Does the wind not usually have a voice?”

 

“It does but it doesn’t.” MK frowns at the impreciseness of her language. “It communicates...concepts, and if I had to describe, it feels more like it than I hear it. But this voice—this voice was rich, and it purred at me, and it was definitely male. It told me to be wary, because it’s coming for me.” She huffs out a breath. “If it’s coming for me, why warn me?”

 

“There are many reasons,” Ronin says, looking lost in thought. “If it was one of ours, it may like the hunt. Or there may be other meanings—there are many variables. But you’ve been overwhelmed with sensation, is that right?”

 

“Yeah,” MK chooses not to add about how her dreams are messing with her. That’s a little too personal.

 

“And you have how long before you need to make a decision?”

 

“I have a day,” she admits.

 

“At the risk of sounding sentimental,” Ronin’s voice is so dry she half expects it to crack, “how do you feel when you imagine going to the city?”

 

She opens her mouth to describe it, but then the knots in her stomach triple, robbing her of breath. She has such a dread of going back to where she was raised, and yet she didn’t even know she was afraid until that moment. “I can’t,” she says bleakly once she can breathe again. “I just—can’t.”

 

“Can’t imagine it?”

 

“No, I can’t go back to the city. It’s not where I belong,” warming to the subject, she continues, “everyone there lives their life behind a mask, denying who they are and what they want. We—perform in the city. That’s not to say we don’t in the country, but it’s so filled with artifice I can’t...I can’t perform who they expect me to be.”

 

“So you’re staying.”

 

“Yes, I’m staying,” but her excitement falls flat when she remembers what a safety risk her father is, “but I don’t know if I’m safe here.”

 

“How do you mean that?” Nod asks, jumping onto her knee and looking up at her.

 

“My dad almost set the house on fire today because he wanted to warm something up in the oven,” she grits her teeth and knots her fingers in the bedspread. “He says he won’t do it again, but he shouldn’t have done it in the first place. His disregard for basic safety and me makes this a risk for me. I can control the safety with my actions, but I can’t control his.” She’s surprised at the venom in her tone—she must’ve been holding this in for a while.

 

“I see,” Ronin doesn’t elaborate, but he does look at her calmly. She wonders what he’s thinking, and from the looks Nod is giving him, the same thing is crossing Nod’s mind.

 

“I’ll call NYU in the morning,” she sighs, lying flat on her back, feet on the floor. Nod jumps from her thigh to her outstretched arm. From the blur that’s Ronin, she thinks he jumps onto the bedspread near her arm as well. “But I don’t know if I can stay here, either. I know my dad is trying, but habits of fourteen years are hard to break.”

 

“Work on the focusing exercises,” Ronin tells her, maybe in an effort to distract from her melancholy. “They should help, at least.”

 

“Is there _any_ precedent for what’s happening to me?”

 

“No,” Ronin shakes his head, “not to Nim’s knowledge. And I don’t like the implication that something is hunting you. I’ll talk to the queen. Perhaps she may know something. Don’t do anything rash for the time being.”

 

“Have I ever done anything rash?”

 

“Run into the woods in the middle of a storm?” Nod suggests.

 

“And yet I was exactly where I needed to be,” she tosses back. “Nice try.”

 

Nod laughs, and it puts her at ease. If Nod’s laughing, her situation isn’t _that_ dire.

 

That thought sustains her right through her vivid dreams of flying on Snowflake, defending Moonhaven from some unknown threat, through the awkward call with NYU housing, and right up until she finds a dead rat with a spear through it, laid at her front door. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Excuse me while I cackle.
> 
> So, this may change some theories that I've gotten, and I'm enjoying the feedback! Keep those theories churning--someone is bound to be right.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> General trigger warning for ableism.

**07\. Wind**

“What did this?” Dad sounds so disturbed, and it takes her a moment to realize he’s never seen Boggans.

 

“Boggans, I think,” Ronin says, turning the rat over carefully. The spear goes all the way through, and it has the look of a Boggan weapon, but the poor rat’s not rotted. “The weapon is similar, and this looks like it could be one of their mounts.”

 

“Boggans ride rats?” Nod asks incredulously. “I’ve never seen them do that.”

 

“Look here,” Ronin points to shiny pink scar tissue around the neck. “That’s from feet kicking the creature.”

 

“That still doesn’t explain why it’s here, or why a Boggan would spear its mount,” she says patiently.

 

Nod looks from Ronin to her, and back to Ronin. “Snowflake.”

 

“Excuse me?” MK blinks.

 

Ronin purses his lips. “That is a thought.”

 

“Excuse me,” MK says a little bit more loudly.

 

Nod looks at her. “Look, you said that when you rescued Snowflake, a larger bat had attacked her, right?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“And Boggans can’t get into your house,” Nod says.

 

“Wait, how?”

 

“We have to be invited,” Ronin clears his throat awkwardly. “Same rules apply for them as for us.”

 

“So Boggans can’t get into your house, and Snowflake was attacked by another bat on the way to your house...” Nod’s looking at her, waiting for her to get it.

 

She thinks she might get it. “Wait, are you telling me that Boggan _deserters_ are coming here? How is that even possible?”

 

“Most of Mandrake’s animals were not there by choice,” Ronin clears his throat again. “They are not creatures of decay. Now that he has been separated from them, his manipulation and thrall—I believe your people call it ‘glamour’—has worn off, and the creatures who are not there by choice are leaving.”

 

“So the Boggan deserters are coming here, because they’ll be safe from Boggan vengeance,” her dad muses.

 

She skips ahead to the more serious issue. “We can’t feed them, Ronin.”

 

“Do you feed Snowflake?”

 

“Well, no--.”

 

“And rats are able to get their own food. I wonder if Mandrake’s been having issues with keeping the rats under control,” Ronin says, standing up and wiping off his hands. “They’re fairly intelligent, and the more intelligent a creature is, the harder to maintain the thrall. It would explain why we haven’t seen Boggans riding rats in a generation.”

 

Nod frowns. “What do you mean, a generation?”

 

“When I first joined the Leaf-Men, Boggans rode rats and grackles,” Ronin says patiently. “You’re facing the next Boggan generation, which does not.”

 

“That doesn’t explain the generational difference.”

 

“Boggans have a shorter life expectancy than we do,” Ronin says slowly. “Therefore, their generation doesn’t match ours. Grackles, however, are bred by Boggans, so they don’t need to rely on thrall for them.”

 

“Oh,” MK nods. Grackles are crows, and crows are incredibly intelligent. “Wait, that means that Mandrake’s thrall grew less powerful as he fought Tara,” she points out.

 

“He devoted his energy more to fighting Tara than maintaining the thrall,” Ronin clarifies.

 

“That makes more sense.”

 

“So are more Boggan deserters going to make their way here?” Dad pushes his glasses up. “What do we need to do to make sure they live through it?”

 

“They have to be inside the house,” Nod tells him, sheathing his sword. “Since they’re animals and not, well, us, they don’t need an invitation. Unless there’s a way you can extend the property to have it inside—”

 

“Which we can’t afford,” MK tells Dad.

 

“—that’s the only way.” Nod shrugs.

 

“So we’ve become the Halfway House for deserters,” MK throws up her hands. “Fantastic.”

 

“It does give credence to the theory that Mandrake is gone forever,” Ronin says quietly. “If the Boggans are losing control over these animals, Mandrake has not found his way to his people.”

 

“Is that good?”

 

“It could be. Or it could be terrible.” Ronin makes a small, considering noise. “It means Mandrake has no allies close at hand. And it _also_ means that he has no one to moderate his madness.”

 

“Is that fair? I mean, about his madness?” MK frowns at Ronin. “Like, was he diagnosed or something?”

 

Ronin looks confused. Right, little people in the woods don’t necessarily have therapists or clinical psychologists. “Never mind. So, how are we going to do this?”

 

“We are not doing anything,” Ronin tells her shortly. “ _You_ are staying away from Wrathwood.”

 

“Excuse me,” she protests, but Ronin’s glare shuts her up.

 

“While there’s a power change, it is too dangerous for _anyone_ to be there, Leaf-Men included,” Ronin orders her. “Leave them alone, MK, I mean it. And that goes for you too,” he turns on Nod. “Stay away from Wrathwood.”

 

“Are you?” Nod demands.

 

Ronin squints at him. “ _Excuse_ me?”

 

MK winces as the wind picks up. Nod’s about to get eaten alive.

 

“I’m serious, you can’t go there to figure this out.”

 

“I’m your commanding officer!” Ronin protests.

 

“We almost lost you there— _twice_. We’re not doing that again,” Nod tells him.

 

“Yeah, no,” MK chimes in. “If you were thinking of going there alone?” she smiles sweetly. “I _will_ follow. And so will my dad. And Nod. And Snowflake. Did you know she hates it when I go out at night when I’m not with you guys? She says so. Loudly. Isn’t she adorable?”

 

Ronin’s fists clench before he makes them relax. “We need to know.”

 

“I’m not saying you can’t go,” she tells him, widening her smile. “I’m just saying you can’t go alone.”

 

The wind winds around them, and she could swear it feels warm with approval against her exposed skin. Ronin closes his eyes. “Very well. We will leave Wrathwood to its petty politics for now,” he grumbles.

 

For now. Well, that’s better than ‘now.’ Besides, between her and Nod, they can keep him from getting into trouble.

 

Well, hopefully.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, the Jinn don't necessarily have a concept of what ableism is, even if they display it. Words are important, but just because you don't have the word for something doesn't mean you don't display it (*cough Game of Thrones cough*). 
> 
> For the record, I think Mandrake is actually mentally sane, but then, I am neurotypical and *not* a licensed psychiatrist, so take that as you will.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some nsfw content in this chapter. Subconscious shenanigans and all that jazz.

**08\. Summer**

It’s almost September, and she’s gone through two full moon cycles now. It’s not going away, this strange compulsion to dance the night away. This last time, she didn’t dance alone.

 

No, some weird guy in green with a creepy smile joined her. He had tried to touch her, but she pushed him away and continued dancing. He hadn’t stayed long after that.

 

When she tells Ronin about him, Ronin frowns deeply. “Someone you know?”

 

Nod lounges on her knee, staring at his commanding officer. “Possibly,” Ronin says at last. “But I will not make any pronouncements until I have more evidence.”

 

“Aw, c’mon Ronin,” Nod says lazily. He watches Snowflake flit around her room, before settling on her perch. “She’s got enough weird stuff in her life as it is, how bad could it be?”

 

Ronin glares at him. “Do not say such things.”

 

“Yeah, that’s like saying it could be raining,” MK tells Nod, falling back on her bed. “Let’s not go there.”

 

“Have any other creatures showed up at your door?” Ronin jumps lightly from her bedside table onto her bed. He’s welcome to perch on her the way Nod does, but he rarely does so.

 

“No, and I haven’t found any corpses in the field. That’s not to say they aren’t further in the forest, but my dad and I haven’t come across them.”

 

“How are you doing with him?” Nod wants to know, moving to her shoulder.

 

She lifts the other shoulder in a shrug. “He’s getting better—slowly. He’s terribly excited about all of this and what it means, and I think I saw him reading Yeats the other day and taking notes. He hasn’t told me about it yet, which means he’s not sure. We coexist.”

 

Ronin nods, because he knows what she’s not saying. Nod also understands, but he’s a lot less judgmental about her dad than Ronin is.

 

“What are your plans?” Ronin inquires, flinching when Snowflake decides to take a pass over them. He’s not acclimating to Snowflake at all, and it bothers her.

 

“Well, I’m over the age of eighteen, I can access my trust fund now,” she sighs, “but I can’t imagine living away from you guys and there’s really nothing that I want. I currently have no plans, no goals or anything.”

 

“That doesn’t lead to good things,” Nod comments.

 

“Right. And I haven’t been sleeping well,” MK shuts up. She hadn’t intended to open that particular can of worms.

 

Ronin, curse him, picks up on that immediately. “Why haven’t you been sleeping well?”

 

“My dreams are weird, more vivid,” she mutters. “Though that voice is starting to talk to me in dreams, telling me to be prepared. Prepared for what? Like, whatever.”

 

“I need to speak to the queen,” Ronin says flatly, moving over to her bedside table.

 

“What, does that confirm your suspicions or something?”

 

“It is a confirmation, but I do not know what it confirms yet,” Ronin says tersely. As he leaves, Nod turns back to her.

 

“So, uh, how’s the weather?”

 

She laughs hollowly. “Hot.”

 

“I know,” Nod complains, “and you don’t have to wear _armor_.”

 

MK winces. “It seems fairly light?”

 

He gives her a Look. “Layers. Summer.”

 

“All right, all right,” she rolls her eyes. “Are you staying here tonight, or are you trailing Ronin?”

 

“I can stay if you want me to stay,” he offers.

 

“You’re always welcome,” she says honestly, “but warning you now, I talk in my sleep.”

 

He kisses her cheek, and it feels like the lightest of butterfly touches. “I’ll be sure to let you know what you say, especially if it includes my name.”

 

She wants to swat him. “Don’t be a jerk.”

 

He laughs.

 

\--

 

The wood grain is digging into her legs, but she’s too preoccupied with what Nod is doing with his mouth to care that much. His hands are splayed over her hips, holding her down while he eats her out, and she’s leaning against someone else’s naked chest, clutching their thighs. It’s a guy, and he reaches around her to tweak her nipples, and she tilts her head up for Ronin’s kiss—

 

MK blinks awake.

 

She doesn’t dare sit up straight, because she’s pretty sure Nod is still there, and the last thing she wants to do is catapult him off the bed and onto the floor, and then have to explain why.

 

Nod’s featured in her not-too-safe-for-work dreams before, but Ronin’s a new one. The both of them together—she simultaneously shrivels up in guilt and curls her toes in want.

 

She carefully moves around Nod, getting out of bed and wrapping a robe around her. It looks like it’s just past moonset—so four in the morning or something.

 

She resolves to put up a mental brick wall. Ronin’s still grieving Tara, and there’s that whole age difference thing, and it wouldn’t be right.

 

No. It’s just a fragment of her weird-ass subconscious, and nothing more.

 

\--

 

Of course, the only thing creepier than her subconscious creeping on Ronin is that the disembodied voice. She is always in darkness as it talks to her, and she can’t move while it goes on and on and on.

 

“Do you miss them?” the voice purrs at her as she twists, trying to get her body to move. In these dreams, unlike her other dreams, she’s aware that she’s in a dream-state, but that doesn’t help with the whole waking-up thing. “Do you want to go back? Or do you just want them?”

 

“I don’t know who the hell you think you are,” she snaps, “but let me wake up, damn you.”

 

“You won’t wake up until I’m ready for you to,” the voice says dismissively. “And that won’t happen until you answer my question.”

 

“Who _are_ you?” she demands.

 

“You’ll find out soon enough. Answer my question, mortal.”

 

Well. _That’s_ interesting. “Yes, I want to go back,” she growls. “Okay, I want to go back.”

 

“That’s all I needed to know,” the voice chirps, passing pressure across her forehead, like it’s brushing it or something. “See you soon.”

 

And isn’t _that_ terrifying, she thinks as she forces herself awake. Nod’s gone tonight, and she’s alone except for Snowflake. She doesn’t know who this is, and she’s actually a little afraid to find out.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we get some more from the voice. *cackles* That should separate some of the theories, by the way. 
> 
> Also, for a show of hands, how many of us have been creeped out by our subconscious when we dream? *thrusts both hands high into the air*


	8. Chapter 8

**09\. Tremble**

 

_“Come away, O human child:_

_To the waters and the wild_

_with a fairy, hand in hand,_

_For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.”_

W.B. Yeats

 

_“The Realm of Fairy is a strange shadow land, lying just beyond the fields we know.”_

Unknown

* * *

  

It’s another full moon in September, and her skin crawls with the itch of dancing. Nod told her she wouldn’t see them that night, because it’s the Autumnal Equinox, and they need to be with the queen.

 

She decides not to tell him that she never sees them on the nights of the full moon, anyway. He hasn’t realized it yet.

 

“Are you going out tonight?” Dad says carefully. He wasn’t happy about her decision not to attend NYU, and she’d messed up and hadn’t told him until a week after she was supposed to have gone up. He’s barely talked to her since that (a week ago), but she feels a pinch of guilt when she thinks that she honestly hasn’t noticed it.

 

“I don’t have much of a choice,” she says, her skin prickling as the sunset pours through the windows. “Not if I don’t want to be jumpy.”

 

“You haven’t eaten anything all day,” Dad says pointedly.

 

She’s starving, but every meal she prepared ended up being gross and green. Dad fixed his own food okay, but every time she tried to make cereal or a sandwich, it smelled terrible. She’d suspect something, but she hardly ever sees Ronin or Nod—this seems like something Nod would pull if he could—during the day.

 

“I’ll see if I can have an apple,” she says, turning back to her book.

 

Dad gives off the general aura of unhappiness, but he heads back to the parlor, where he’s comparing different Boggan weapons. She’s not planning on touching food, since it’s all gone bad the moment she’s touched it.

 

She’s being manipulated for something, she just doesn’t know what it is.

 

The sun vanishes completely on the horizon, and her skin goes from prickly to feeling like it’s completely on fire. Dad’s at the front of the house, not the back, and she heads toward the back door, and the sky’s still streaked in purples and pinks, but she knows the moon is coming.

 

She sits on the back porch and watches the stars come out. Her helmet rests beside her—she takes it everywhere now. The night wind carries a chill, and she rubs her arms, but she doesn’t go back into the house to get a sweater.  She can’t, not now.

 

She gets why Ronin calls it compulsion.

 

The moon starts to crown over the trees, and she hears the mysterious fiddle music. She jumps to her feet without thinking about it, and as she starts, she notices some orbs of light come to luminescence beside her. She’d figure there’s about five, and they bob in a circle around her as she dances, and as the moon starts to travel across the sky, one of the orbs breaks away, taking on a greener hue. It forms into a man, only a little taller than she is, and he offers his hands to her, and she takes them.

 

She didn’t quite realize that the other yearn that she deals with monthly was the yearn for company, which, now that she has it, makes her feel warm and full internally. Her hunger is forgotten, and all that matters is the dance.

 

She loses track of time as they spin around the circle faster and faster, until the orbs appear as streaks of light in her vision. She can’t see the detail of her partner’s face, only that he wears green and his skin is clammy to the touch. Sweat pours down her face and her heart roars in her ears, but it’s a good feeling, and by the time the moon has set, her feet burn and her muscles are trembling. Her partner helps her to the porch, and she splays her legs to relax the muscles.

 

Her partner crouches between her spread legs, and his eyes glow with golden specks. “A cake?” he offers in a voice like crushed velvet. In his hands lies a small, yellow cake. The longer she stares at it, the more appetizing it looks. It glistens in the starlight, and she can imagine the sweetness that would burst on her tongue, the taste of honey and vanilla. She reaches for the cake, but there’s a small stab of pain to her open palm, and she blinks.

 

A green blur is crouched on her hand.

 

She can feel her palm bleeding, and the pain lets her focus. More details of her mysterious partner’s face emerge, the pointed ears rising from his dark hair, the canines glinting between his curled lips, and the hollowness of his cheeks. The cake begins to look less appetizing, and she stares in horror at what looks like mold on a corner.

 

She almost _ate_ that?

 

She reaches for her helmet that she brought down with her, and as she slides it on, she realizes the blur on her bleeding palm is Ronin, and he’s staring down her partner. “Not like this,” he’s snarling, and the last time she’s heard this tone from him, he was pinning Nod to the tree and raging about the lost pod. “Not without her _choice_.”

 

“It would have been her choice,” her partner giggles, and it’s an awful, terrible sound. Her skin prickles in response. “She would have chosen to pick up the cake, yes she would, and she would choose to put it in her mouth, yes indeed.”

 

“If she’s glamoured, that doesn’t make it a choice,” Ronin rumbles. Her hand is starting to shake from the pain, but she doesn’t want to toss Ronin to the ground. “Leave her alone.”

 

“I’ll be back,” her partner threatens. “With the _King_.”

 

“Go ahead,” Ronin grits.

 

“He won’t side with you, _lesser faery_.”

 

“Is that supposed to insult me? Get you gone,” the danger in Ronin’s voice deepens. “ _Now_.”

 

The...creature leaves in an orb of light.

 

Ronin jumps down from her palm to her knee, and she examines her palm. A pinprick in the center confirms _that’s_ the wound. “I’m sorry for that,” he sighs, cleaning off his sword with a square of cloth, “but you would have eaten the faery cake and been bound to our lands before realizing what you were doing. Pain’s the only way to break out of glamour, but it isn’t reliable.”

 

“Who was that?” she asks, shaking slightly.

 

“Robin Goodfellow,” Ronin spits out. “The trickster in the Seelie court.”

 

“Robin Good—you mean _Puck_?!”

 

“That is one of his other names,” Ronin agrees, but he looks startled that she knows.

 

“Puck is _real_? What about Oberon, or Tit--.”

 

“Shh,” Ronin scolds. “Do you want to summon them here, especially on a night like tonight?”

 

“They’re _real_?”

 

“And apparently the trickster’s decided to play with you,” Ronin narrows his eyes. “I wonder.”

 

“Did you ever speak to the queen?”

 

“She has no idea.”

 

“Why did Pu—that dude call you a lesser fairy?”

 

“There are two types of us,” Ronin says, gesturing for her to bring her hand over. She does so as he grabs a vial from inside his armor, and he squirts something into his hand, applying it to the pinprick on her hand. It tingles, and she fights the urge to yank it away. “There are the Seelie—us—and the Unseelie—the Boggans. And then there are the Greater and the Lesser of both courts. The Greater include that damned trickster, while we’re considered the Lesser.”

 

“Is it because of size?”

 

Ronin frowns at her hand. “No. It’s because of what we’re tied to. The Lesser are tied to physical places—we’re tied to this forest, and we can’t leave. The Greater can travel where they will. Indeed, the Courts held their centennial battle here eighteen years ago.” He taps her hand. “You should be fine.”

 

“Bigger question—why would that dude try to get me to eat the cake?”

 

Ronin sighs, looking very old. “I do not know.” His eyes narrow, “but I will find out.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the way, in case it wasn't clear, Puck messed with MK's food so that by the time she was offered the cake, she would be so hungry that she wouldn't look at what she was offered.
> 
> Also, yeah guys, in case you ever stumble on a faery ring or something, don't eat the food. Mortals who drink and eat from the land of Faery are bound to the land of Faery forever. 
> 
> And the tidbits about the Courts will come to fruition.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> General warning for blood and inadvertent self-harm. 
> 
> Also, whoever catches the Dead Poets reference gets an internet cookie and the next oneshot dedicated to them.

**10\. Silver**

 

_“Come faeries, take me out of this dull world, for I would ride with you upon the wind and dance upon the mountains like a flame.”_ W.B. Yeats 

* * *

 

MK frowns at her mirror. It’s ancient, something she pulled from the attic, and she thinks it belonged to Grandma Lyse. The idea of her dad buying a full-length mirror on a stand is laughable.

 

A screw is missing, and she runs her finger along the groove. Dad’s got some screws in his toolbox; she just needs to figure out what she needs. She takes a step back to observe the whole mirror, making sure it’s not listing to one side or anything, and then she looks at her reflection but—it’s not her reflection. A tall man, his dark hair braided with crow feathers in a deep blue robe, has replaced it. He looks her over, arms folded across his chest.

 

MK looks behind her, and when she looks at the mirror again, it’s her own reflection. She frowns.

 

That’s odd.

 

\--

 

The next time it happens, Nod is there, teasing Snowflake. “Why the mirror?”

 

“Got tired of having to go the bathroom down the hall to make sure my clothing lies straight,” she mumbles into her pillow, watching Nod chase Snowflake around the room. Snowflake’s cheeping, but she seems happy as she dive-bombs Nod before flitting away. “Besides, I asked Dad and he told me it was my great-grandmother’s. Family heirloom—I’m a sucker for them.” She sits up, looking at it. “I love the carvings around the glass,” she gestures.

 

“Help me see them?”

 

She stoops, allowing Nod to jump onto her hand as she lifts him up. “Are these forest carvings?”

 

“Yeah, they are,” she answers, turning to look at the other side, but once again, the guy in the blue robe is staring daggers at her. She jumps, throwing Nod to the side. He catches himself, looking up at her as she stares at the mirror. The man’s gone, but she feels a prickle between her shoulder blades.

 

“What was that about?” Nod complains.

 

“Did you see that?”

 

“See what?”

 

“That was the second time I saw a man replace my reflection in the mirror. I’m starting to think something’s up.”

 

“Describe him,” Nod orders, voice hard. Snowflake chirps, flying onto MK’s shoulder.

 

“He’s tall—but then again, mirrors and distortion. He wears a deep blue robe that goes all the way, and he has crow feathers braided in his hair. His eyes seem like they’re blue, but they could be a deep green too.”

 

Nod frowns. “That sounds familiar, but I need to double-check with the queen.”

 

“Would this have something to do with someone who’s fairly puckish?”

 

Nod blinks at her, before the light of understanding dawns. “Um—yes? Maybe? The queen would know.”

 

“You’ll ask her for me?”

 

“Yeah,” Nod says. “Don’t worry about it. I don’t know why they’re going after you, though. They don’t usually care about _our_ affairs.”

 

“Yeah, Ronin said something similar,” MK says softly. “He doesn’t get it either.”

 

“Maybe this’ll blow over,” Nod offers. “They get bored easy, and it’s probably fun to creep out the Stom—humans.”

 

“Well, I wish they’d do it soon,” she grumbles, gesturing for Snowflake to fly to her perch before flopping onto her bed. “I’m getting sick of the games.”

 

Nod kisses her cheek. “Hate to drop and run, but I’ve got guard duty tonight, and Ronin gets mad if I’m late.”

 

“Have fun,” she tells him as he hops onto the windowsill. He waves a hand in acknowledgment before jumping out the window.

 

\--

 

She’s facing the mirror, and this time she’s in a blue robe-gown thing that she’s never seen. Her hair is down, and the silk of the dress (she can’t say how she knows it’s silk) rustles as she stares at the mirror.

 

“Getting rid of the mirror won’t get rid of me.” the man in the mirror says. She props her hand on her hips, and he copies the motion. “Shall you straighten your gown and I tell you how beautiful you look?”

 

“Who are you?”

 

The man grins, and it’s a wolfish, predatory expression. He walks toward her and she takes a hasty step back as he steps out of the mirror. He keeps walking toward her until her back hits a wall, and he raises his hand to trace the lines of her throat as she swallows. She freezes as he looks down at her. “Who I am doesn’t matter,” he dismisses. “What matters is who _you_ think I am.”

 

She summons her inner resolve and glares at him. “You’re Oberon, right?”

 

He looks at her with new respect, taking a step back and she relaxes slightly. “Oh, you _are_ a smart one.”

 

“Or you were made popular through the works of an obscure writer named William Shakespeare.”

 

“Ah yes,” Oberon says with distaste. “That...man. As if Titania and I would fight over a changeling. My power stems from hers.”

 

“Why are you bothering me?” she demands, fisting her hands in her dress. Her palms are sweaty, but the fabric isn’t absorbing it. “I haven’t done anything.”

 

“No, you’re right, you have not,” Oberon’s voice turns cool. “Come here.”

 

“No.”

 

“ _Don’t_ make me compel you,” he sighs, offering a hand.

 

Hesitatingly, she takes it, and he pulls her to the mirror, moving behind her to grasp her shoulders. His skin is cool, but not as clammy as Puck’s is. Instead, it’s raspy, like the feel of snake scales without the look of it. “Tell me, do you believe you’re mortal?”

 

“Of course I am,” she snaps. She tries to move out of his grasp, but his fingers turn into claws, piercing her skin lightly. Blood beads around his claws and she hisses in pain.

 

“How do you define mortality?” Oberon sounds highly entertained.

 

Of course he does. “I die, don’t I?”

 

“But we can die,” Oberon points out. “It causes greater ramifications than the death of a mortal, but we do die. What else?”

 

“We—I don’t know, if everything dies, than that means everything is mortal in some way.”

 

“Not quite,” Oberon says.

 

“What is this, try to make me look like a fool or something?”

 

“You’re verging into that territory. Fine, I’ll tell you,” Oberon leans in so his breath brushes against the shell of her ear, and she shudders. It’s not warm, not like human breath. “What marks your kind from mine are your limitations. You believe in finite things, even your gods have limits for they can and cannot do. Your kind explains it away that they _could_ do it, they just choose not to, but that’s not the answer. My kind, however, is not bound by limits, except by barriers of place. We can literally do anything we wish.”

 

“And that’s why you choose not to take part,” she hisses in response. “Right? Neutrality?”

 

“Try entertainment. Your kind is merely food for worms. Well. Calling it _your_ kind is bordering on fallacious.”

 

“Excuse me?”

 

Oberon lets go of her, and the blood runs down her shoulders to stain the neckline of her dress. “You will discover my meaning soon enough.”

 

“Leave me alone,” she tells him, shaking slightly. “I don’t want any part of this!”

 

“Oh, you poor child,” Oberon says with pity, “you have no choice,” he walks back into the mirror, and she runs after him.

 

“Come _back_ here, you scumbag!” she slams her fists on the mirror, and it shatters—

 

“Mary Katherine?” Dad asks as she sits on the floor. “I heard a crash, are you all right?”

 

She blinks and stares around her. The wooden frame of the mirror is still standing, but the mirror itself has shattered. Her hands are bloody and Snowflake’s clinging to the ceiling, cheeping in dismay. Worst of all, her shoulders are bleeding into her nightgown. “I—don’t know.”

 

“Why did you break the mirror?”

 

“I don’t remember,” she mutters, trying to get to her feet.

 

“Don’t move,” Dad orders, “not with all that broken glass. I’ll get a dustpan.” She hears him run off, and she looks up at Snowflake, who looks distressed.

 

“I think I’m going mad,” she confesses, and that, plus the physical pain, sends her over the edge. Dad finds her there, surrounded by shattered glass, sobbing, and for the first time, he throws aside the dustpan and crouches beside her, tugging her to him.

 

“It’s okay,” he comforts, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “We’ll figure this out.”

 

The fact that it’s Dad comforting her compounds it, and she turns her face into his blue button down pajama shirt, inhaling the scent of cedar and dirt, and cries even more. “I don’t know how to do this,” she hiccups.

 

Dad cradles her. “That’s okay, Mary Katherine. We’re going to make it okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oberon and his design is based on Alex Jennings' take on the role in the 1996 'A Midsummer's Night Dream.' (It's on Netflix). It's my favorite Oberon and my favorite interpretation, because while during the 'real world scenes,' they're on legit sets, but once everyone's frolicking in the forest, it's done on a stage with minimal props, which I love. 
> 
> Puck's design isn't based on the '96 version. He looks far more alien, and far more cruel. 
> 
> Also, Oberon is a drama queen. The Phantom learned things from *him.*


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> General trigger warning for drugged states and lack of control over one's body. 
> 
> POV shift! Yes.

**11\. Transformation**

 

 _“The fey wonders of the world only exist while there are those with the sight to see them.”_ Charles de Lint

* * *

  

“Something’s not right,” Nod tells Ronin as the moon rises on Samhain. “There’s too much—something in the air.” He compares it to when they watched the pod choose Queen Mari, and realizes that it’s a similar feeling. “Like there’s too much _magic_ in the air.”

 

“We cannot leave the queen,” Ronin reminds him, but his mouth is pursed.

 

“D’you think this has to do with MK and--?”

 

“Yes,” Ronin says.

 

“We need to be there! Especially if they’re going to try something—where are you going?”

 

“I need to talk to the queen,” Ronin says over his shoulder as he leaps back toward Moonhaven. He whistles for Crown, the chickadee he rides, and Nod watches him go.

 

“You do that,” he mutters. “I’m going to MK.”

 

Where he’s currently patrolling isn’t too far from her house, but the air feels like it gets thicker the closer he gets, until his muscles are straining and his lungs are burning with the effort.

 

He lands on a branch overlooking the clearing that her house is in, and he rubs his eyes. The area’s so hazy with magic he can’t see anything clearly, only the pink of MK’s sweatshirt as she walks into the clearing. It takes him a moment, but he realizes she’s swaying slightly, almost like she’s drunk—or glamoured.

 

He tenses, preparing to jump out of the tree and into the clearing, but a hand slams between his shoulder blades and grabs the straps of his amor, anchoring him there. He looks around and sees Ronin, who looks...displeased. “What’s going on?”

 

“Apparently, Queen Titania sent a message to Queen Marigold that a debt will be repaid tonight, and that we must not interfere.”

 

“Curse that,” Nod snaps, “she’s _glamoured_.”

 

“Do you want her to go through with this, knowing what’s going on but also being unable to resist the compulsion?” Ronin’s gaze is direct. “Let her have this.”

 

“What’s going to happen?”

 

He feels, rather than sees, Queen Mari alight on their branch on his other side. “She has to choose,” Queen Mari says softly as orbs shimmer around MK in the clearing. If Nod squints, he can see her dad tugging at the door, but it won’t open. “She has two choices before her, and they will be her choices.”

 

“Despite the glamour and the compulsion?”

 

Queen Mari ignores his sarcasm. “Yes. Watch.”

 

The orbs flash, turning into Oberon, Puck, and other members of the Seelie Court. Titania hasn’t joined them yet. Behind MK, the purple and grey orbs form into Queen Mab and her Court, and together they form a loose circle around MK, who looks completely out of it. Nod feels a snarl starting to rip out of his chest, and Ronin grasps his left forearm. “Do not,” Ronin warns quietly.

 

“I can’t believe you’re allowing this,” he hisses. “She doesn’t have a choice!”

 

“She was meant to join us one way or another, and this is the way that gives her the most agency,” Queen Mari says, glaring at him.

 

Queen Mari isn’t usually so solemn, and he wonders what she and Titania spoke about earlier. As if thinking about her summoned her, Titania appears, pale skin aglow in a deep pink dress, her blonde hair rippling down her back. Mab hisses at her but Titania is aloof, entering the circle between Puck and Oberon. Once Titania’s in the circle, the haze clears to the point that Nod can see the Boggans on the other side of the clearing, their eyes fixed on the Seelie Fae in the center. Nod’s stomach plummets when he realizes Mandrake is among them.

 

Ronin’s grip on his forearm tightens as he sees Mandrake too. Queen Mari sucks in a breath, but she stands tall. On the nights Nod guards her chamber, he’s heard her scream awake from a nightmare of Mandrake more than once.

 

“We are gathered on this night, our new year, to welcome a new member to either court,” Titania says smoothly. “Mary Katherine has the choice between either court as part of paying a debt, and tonight we recognize the debts of the past while evening the scales for the future. As some of you may know, eighteen years ago, in this very woods, we held our centennial battle, and some mortals were caught in the middle. One of them saved my life, and tonight we repay that debt. The food, please,” Oberon offers her a wooden platter with a faery cake on it and a goblet of what could be wine. “Choose one, and you choose your court,” Titania instructs MK. MK looks at the wine and the faery cake, and she hesitates, before taking the cake. Queen Mari breathes out a sigh.

 

“She chose the Seelie court,” Ronin tells him in an aside.

 

“Eat,” Titania orders, and MK takes the cake, biting into it and finishing it off. Nod can hear her dad’s shout of, “NO!” but MK is too glamoured to hear it. Titania gestures to Puck, who passes her another platter after Oberon takes the first one back. This one holds a goblet of water and a green faery cake. “You have chosen the Court, and now you must choose your form,” Titania decrees. “Will you be a Greater Fae, or a Lesser Fae?” MK reaches for the green faery cake with none of her earlier hesitation, and she doesn’t need Titania’s order to eat it.

 

Once she’s swallowed, her eyes clear as golden light—the light that ripples around Titania—encircles her. “What did she choose?” Nod demands of Queen Mari.

 

“She chose us,” Ronin says, finally letting go of him as Queen Mab and her Court disappears. The Boggans leave too, leaving Titania and her Court watching MK through the veil of golden light.

 

Magic explodes in a wave over the clearing, and when the flash has left, the Seelie Court is gone, and Nod can see the crumpled form of MK lying on the grass. She’s now the size she was when he first met her, and he jumps from the tree to her side.

 

Ronin and Queen Mari join him as he looks MK over, rolling her carefully onto her back. Her pulse is steady, but she’s completely unconscious.

 

Queen Mari kneels, placing a hand over MK’s forehead. “She will sleep for a week,” Queen Mari says, “and she will be weak and exhausted for at least a month after that.”

 

“Why?”

 

“She was made into one of us. Her body will struggle to keep up and cope, and that will take time. I must return to Moonhaven; the Sleep is calling me.”

 

“I can take you,” Finn says, approaching. Nod glances at Ronin, who’s nodding at Finn in thanks and approval. “This is no place for a queen to rest.”

 

“Thank you Finn,” Queen Mari says, sounding like her usual self as he helps her onto his chickadee.

 

“I’ll see you back at Moonhaven,” Finn tells Ronin, wheeling and flying off.

 

“What was that whole thing about?” Nod tells Ronin as Ronin kneels next to MK, checking her pulse for himself. “Fulfilling a debt?”

 

“I’m sure Nim can help,” Ronin says absently.

 

“Why didn’t he bring it up the five times you’ve talked to him before?”

 

“He didn’t know what he was looking for. The Court does not usually pay such close attention to our part of the world.”

 

“This should not have happened,” Nod says furiously.

 

“I would not repeat that sentiment around her,” Ronin says icily, hooking an arm under MK’s shoulders and knees and lifting her carefully. “She was ill treated, but she’s with us now, for better for worse.” He whistles to his bird, who comes swooping out of the darkness. “Take the long way home, it’ll help you clear your head.”

 

“Where are you taking her?”

 

“Not the barracks,” Ronin says with a snort, carefully arranging the two of them on his bird so that she’s braced. “I’m taking her to my family home.”

 

“Ronin—that place hasn’t been lived in in years.” It’s dusty and old, and the Queen has guest quarters, so he doesn’t fully understand.

 

“Well, that’s about to change,” Ronin observes, looking down at him.

 

Nod watches Ronin fly off, and he grumbles to himself before heading for the treeline. The trip home _will_ help him clear his head, even if he hates that this was done.

 

It’s not that it was done, he amends as he jumps from branch to branch. It’s _how_ it was done. He’d been cherishing hopes that Ronin would talk to Queen Mari about reversing what she had done on the Summer Solstice, because it was more than clear that despite everything, MK had adapted quickly to their way of life, and she couldn’t adapt as easily to hers’. Plus all of the stuff that were side-effects of their magic, and he had thought that it was only a matter of time.

 

Glamouring MK and compelling her through the entire ceremony was a slap to her ability to choose. It wasn’t right, but Queen Mari can’t reverse the decision. No Lesser can.

 

MK’s with them now, for better for worse. And while he’s glad for that, he knows she’ll hate this, and that—that may cause more harm than her father could in the long run.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And...things have officially changed. The clans/families will be explained in bits and pieces over the next few chapters, but just know for now that Jinn society is very much based on family units, and if you don't belong to one, you have no status *unless* you're in the Leafmen.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Devoted to queenmarykatherine, who's not having the best time at the moment.

**12\. Formal**

_“A promise made is a debt unpaid_.” Robert W. Service

* * *

  

“Hey kid,” Finn says, sitting down on a chair across the bed. “How’s everything holding up?”

 

Nod looks at his commanding officer. “I’m fine. She—isn’t. It’s like she has a fever.”

 

Currently, MK is curled on her side, buried in blankets and still shivering. She’s woken up only at night for brief periods; he was there for the first one, but Ronin was there for the consecutive ones. She keeps switching from cold to hot—her last hot spell was a couple of hours ago, so she’s due for another one shortly. “I don’t know if she’s going to make it,” Nod says quietly.

 

They’ve had the Leafmen healer in to see her; Missa had taken one look at her and said, “This is beyond my skill. She is in transition from moral to faery, and if she lives out the week she will live.” That was four days ago, and MK has worsened steadily since.

 

The best option would have the queen look over her, but Queen Mari fell into the Sleep on Samhain and will not wake until the vernal equinox.

 

He watches over MK during the day, and Ronin watches over her at night. Once the queen falls into the Sleep, the Boggans increase their attacks, and Ronin’s been stuck between trying to discover how exactly this happened and protecting Moonhaven.

 

Nod _should_ be out there, but if Missa is right, in three days MK will wake up fully as one of them, and he can return to active duty. If she dies in the next three days, he will still return to active duty.

 

What’s curious is how _Ronin_ is dealing with all of this. They might be Fae, but they still need sleep, but it’s like Ronin doesn’t. Some of the flower Jinn were more than happy to clean out his home at his request, and Nod—when he looks it over—is in awe at the crafting and detail that went into building it. It’s a clan home, not a family home, but Ronin’s the last member of his clan, so the place is his.

 

“Nod, she’ll make it,” Finn says. “She’s pretty stubborn.”

 

“It might not be enough.”

 

“Hey, attitude like that, and it won’t be.”

 

“Why are you here, Finn?”

 

“What, you think Ronin doesn’t want an eye on you too?”

 

Nod rolls his eyes. “Yeah, whatever.”

 

The door opens, and Nod knows it’s Ronin, but when Nim says, “Hey Nod,” he jumps.

 

“What are you doing here?”

 

Finn quickly gets up out of the chair so that Nim can sit there. Nim’s holding a scroll and Finn leaves, closing the door behind him. “Ronin asked me about the centennial battle eighteen years ago,” Nim says in injured tones. “Since everything that happens in the forest is recorded, that includes the centennial battle—and how MK’s mother saved Titania’s life.”

 

Nod looks at Ronin. “Is he serious?”

 

“Absolutely,” Ronin says. “It may answer the questions we have.”

 

Nim hands the scroll to him, and Ronin draws closer. “I need that back once you’re done, but I know you won’t leave her side, so I brought it.” He stands up, dusting off his six hands on his coat. “Come get me when you’re done.”

 

He closes the door with a snap and Nod looks at Ronin. “This will have the answers?”

 

“It should.”

 

With that, Nod turns and blows on the scroll.

 

~~

 

He and Ronin are standing in a field, but they’re—bigger, and he realizes that they’re seeing this from Titania’s point of view. She’s running through the forest, clutching her side. Silver blood pools between her fingers, and Nod takes a step back. Ronin steadies him, but Nod hisses, “What could cause the Seelie Queen to _bleed_?”

 

“Sh,” Ronin orders, and Titania trips and falls.

 

A human woman in green and brown steps out of the forest. “Oh my god, are you okay?” She’s shorter than Titania, but she falls to her knees beside the queen. “How can I help you?”

 

Ronin’s tense as a bowstring, but Nod doesn’t understand why. The woman looks like MK, only with brown hair, and she has to be MK’s mom, then. Titania groans when MK’s mom places a hand on the wound. “I-Iron. You must—get it out. I cannot.”

 

“You need a doctor,” MK’s mom protests.

 

“My healers—cannot h-help. You must—take it out.”

 

“I’m not putting fingers in your wounds, that’s not hygienic.”

 

Titania groans, passing her hand over a dead branch next to her; it immediately changes into a pair of tweezers. “H-here, mortal.”

 

“Those aren’t—whatever.” The woman takes the tools, and she pulls aside the remains of Titania’s blue dress to show the reddened, bleeding wounds. “I’m not a nurse, so I’m sorry in advance,” the woman says, focusing on the wounds. With the tips of the tweezers, she starts to root around in the wounds. Titania screams, but when MK’s mom retracts the tweezers, Titania gasps, “No, keep going. They will poison me otherwise.”

 

“I’m sorry,” she replies, diving back into the wounds.

 

There are five pieces of iron that MK’s mom draws out, and when it’s done, Titania claps her hand over her wound. Silver light shines underneath it, and when she takes her hand away, the wound has healed.

 

“W-what is this?” MK’s mom stutters.

 

“You have saved my life, mortal,” Titania says coolly. “Tell me, what is your name?”

 

“Anna—Anna Kennedy-Radcliffe.”

 

“Anna Kennedy-Radcliffe, I, Titania, Queen of Fae, heretofore owe you a debt. You are with child—I can ease the birth and ensure the both of you are healthy.”

 

“You can’t be real,” Anna stutters, ignoring that last bit. “There’s no such thing.”

 

Titania huffs. “Tell me what you wish of me, woman—I hate to be in debt.”

 

“I don’t want anything from you,” Anna says, standing up carefully, and now that she’s standing, Nod can see the strain of clothing across her pregnant belly. _That’s MK_ , he realizes. “I saved your life because it was a human thing to do.”

 

“Very well,” Titania says, rising as well. “I will merely bestow my favor upon your offspring. Saving the life of a Fae Queen is no small thing.”

 

Ronin starts next to him, and Nod flinches. He’d forgotten Ronin was there. “This is where it started,” Ronin breathes.

 

Anna backs up, and Titania disappears, and the memory abruptly ends. Nod blinks as the shimmering jewel tones of the memory fades out in favor of the muted browns of MK’s room.

 

“What do you mean, this is where it started?”

 

“Titania never would have thought to give MK the option of the Greater and Lesser courts,” Ronin says, bending down to pull off the blankets off of MK. Sweat is beading her forehead and she’s mumbling too quickly for her words to be understood. He grabs the cool, damp cloth in the bowl on the bedside table and places it on her forehead, before turning back to Nod. “Tara did not choose MK because Titania owed her.”

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“Yes,” Ronin says shortly. “But showing her our world, giving her an opportunity to experience it, gave her the option of choosing.”

 

“So that she didn’t have to deal with the Greater Court if she didn’t want to.”

 

“Exactly.” Ronin rubs his eyes, and Nod realizes how tired he is.

 

“That doesn’t answer what could cause the Seelie Queen to bleed, though,” Nod points out.

 

“I can answer that,” Nim offers, opening the door so he can take the scroll from Nod. “You know, of course, that both Courts have mortals present on the field for their centennial battle, so that blood _can_ be spilled while they battle for the control of the fey places of the world for the next 100 years. The Queen of Air and Darkness was tired of losing, so she hid mortals among her warriors and allowed them to use their own weapons while fighting the Seelie Court. Mortals can handle iron.”

 

“If Titania had _died_...”

 

“We would all certainly look very different,” Nim agrees. He looks at Ronin. “Anastasia will be here in four days to go over the ritual. She’s stuck in the middle of something on the other side of the forest, and the early blizzard isn’t helping things.”

 

“Anastasia?” Nod demands, trying to remember who she is.

 

“She’s in charge of our domestic law,” Ronin says over-patiently. “Thank you, Nim. Good night.”

 

Nim vanishes, and Nod looks at Ronin suspiciously. “Why is she coming here?”

 

“She’s going to list MK as belonging to my clan.”

 

“What—why--?”

 

“Your mother did not stop being a member of her clan once she married your father, because he was established in the Leafmen, and to be in the Leafmen you _have_ to give up your family ties. You were listed in your mother’s clan until you joined, at which point you became independent. But if you are the last remaining member of a family or clan, you still carry that name,” Ronin’s glare is approaching epic proportions. “You should know this.”

 

“But why _MK_?”

 

“She has no status. Listing her as part of my clan will protect her, and give her a door to our society.”

 

“So that’s why you opened up your home,” Nod says. He peers at Ronin. “Were you planning this all along?”

 

“No.” Ronin scrutinizes him. “Go to bed, Nod. It’s late.”

 

“What about you?”

 

“I’ll be fine,” he rolls his eyes. “Good night.”

 

Nod, with grumbling, goes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EXCERPT FROM ANNA KENNEDY-RADCLIFFE'S DIARY, 4 MAY 1995:
> 
> 'I had an interesting experience today, in the forest. Bomba was home, cataloguing the things that were destroyed in the move (he was so determined to log everything as we packed it, he's detail-oriented that way), and I was out in the forest, because Mary Katherine was being playful. 
> 
> 'There was a woman in the forest, with bullet holes in her. She demanded that I pull them out with wooden tweezers, which, by the way, seems incredibly unsanitary, and when I did, she inexplicably healed suddenly. It was odd, and when I mentioned it to Bomba, he seemed really excited. He's determined to go into the forest tomorrow, but I just remember what my grandmother said about faeries and hills, and while I think it's fairly ridiculous--Grandmother could talk about all manner of things when the drink was in her--I don't think he should be messing with something he's incapable of understanding. 
> 
> 'You don't mess with faeries. It won't end well.
> 
> 'We're in the process of setting up the last bit of the nursery....'
> 
> \--
> 
> BTW, the centennial battle that takes place between the Greater Courts for the control of the wild places from the world is from Emma Bull's _War for the Oaks_. It's a great novel and I love it--rock music saves everybody, it's marvelous.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *cackles* and the domestic fic begins.

**13\. Knowledge**

When MK wakes up in three days, Nod’s with her. He’s been dozing in the chair, and when she sits up and says, “Nod?” he immediately jumps to attention.

 

“MK!” He hugs her quickly, before pulling back. “Let me get Ronin.”

 

Ronin’s down the hall in the library, looking at something at the desk when Nod knocks on the open door. Ronin looks up, “She’s awake?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Ronin closes his book and gets up. He’s at the most casual Nod’s ever seen him, just in leggings, boots, his shirt and unbuttoned overcoat. He strides to MK’s room, Nod following excitedly, and they find MK attempting to stand up.  They both catch her when her knees give out. “ _Ugh_ ,” she groans after they sit her on the bed. “I feel like a weak kitten.”

 

“But a cute kitten,” Nod offers.

 

She rolls her eyes and Ronin looks askance at him. “Is this normal?”

 

“Your body is still coping with the transition. You will likely be weak for some time.”

 

Nod wants to hit Ronin. Don’t tell her _that_. Tell her that it’ll pass.

 

“Oh,” she says glumly. “So, what happened? All I remember is being lured out into the field, and it’s like my mind went away for a while. Then I remember you putting me to bed, and that Nod looked very concerned. I know I’m small again, but I don’t remember _how_.”

 

“It’s a long answer,” Ronin warns her.

 

“Well, I need to use the necessary first,” MK says quickly. “Wait, you do having running water, yes?”

 

“Yeah,” Nod tells her, bending down to pull her arm over his shoulders as he lifts her up. “We’re not complete barbarians.”

 

“Oh good,” she mutters, leaning on him heavily as they head towards the privy. She demands privacy, and he wonders if he’ll have to explain how it works, but while he hears grumbling through the door, when she appears it is with satisfaction. They head back to her bedroom, and when she rests on the bed, she’s clearly out of breath. “I have to deal with this for a while?” she asks, looking at them.

 

“Yes,” Ronin says, helping her sit back. He covers her with the blankets, and Nod realizes that Ronin’s hidden soft side is showing with glaring lights. He covers his mouth with his hand and tries not to look amused.

 

“All right, so—what happened?”

 

“On Samhain, the queen was contacted by Titania, the Seelie Queen, who pulled her aside and informed her that she would be engaging in transformation magic that night. It was the right time for it,” Ronin starts. He glances at Nod, who realizes that’s his cue.

 

“I got the sense that something was wrong,” Nod picks up, “so I went to go check. When I got to your house, the whole place was, like, really hazy with magic. It was clear you’d been glamoured when you came out into the circle—you were moving like you were drunk.”

 

“It was clear it was Oberon controlling you,” Ronin says quietly. Nod glances at him—he hadn’t been sure who had glamoured MK, but yeah, it makes sense that it was Oberon. “Titania appeared, and gave a little backstory as to why you were chosen to change, but she didn’t go into any detail.”

 

“Was it because Tara turned me small?”

 

“No, it was because your mother saved Titania’s life eighteen years ago,” Ronin sighs. “Every century, the Seelie and Unseelie Courts have a battle for the control of the wild places of the world, and whoever wins then gives an advantage to the Lesser Fae living in those places.”

 

“So if the Unseelie Court wins, it gives an advantage to Boggans?”

 

“Yes. The Queen had called together both Courts, Lesser and Greater in attendance, and she gave you first the option of the courts, and the option of the either us or the Greater. Obviously you chose us.” Ronin looks at her, and Nod waits for the fallout.

 

She’s surprisingly pragmatic. “I never had a choice to stay human, did I?”

 

“It does not appear so,” Ronin confirms.

 

She sighs. “At least I had the presence of mind to choose you guys. I can’t imagine choosing the Greater Fae, not after Puck was such an ass, or worse, waking up as a Boggan. How would _that_ have even worked?”

 

“I prefer not to think on it,” Ronin says dryly.

 

“Has anyone talked to my dad?”

 

Nod raises a hand. “I stopped by one of the monitors the second day out and told him I’d send you by once you were up to it.”

 

“You didn’t tell me this.”

 

“You were a little busy with Leafmen recruiting,” it’s his turn to be dry. “Your dad’s concerned, but he’s not about to cut the forest down.”

 

“Good,” MK looks at the bed. “Where exactly am I?”

 

“My family house,” Ronin says. “I’m the only one left, so it’s up to me what I do with it.”

 

MK blinks at that, but she doesn’t reply to it. She yawns. “I _just_ woke up,” she says, frustrated. “Why am I still tired?”

 

“You’re just going to go through this for a while,” Nod tells her. “It’ll get better—probably by spring.”

 

She wrinkles her nose. “ _Great_.”

 

“I’ve got someone on her way to officially induct you into our society, but she’s on the other side of the forest and a blizzard blew up, and once that calmed down, _another_ one came up. She’s stuck there until further notice.”

 

“Okay,” MK yawns to Ronin. “I think I’m gonna go back to sleep. Can we expect blizzards?”

 

“We’re fairly snug here,” Ronin tells her, twitching the covers over her. “We get them, but the house won’t blow down.”

 

“Okay,” MK repeats, leaning her head against the pillow and closing her eyes. Since she’s no longer in imminent danger of dying, Nod feels himself relax, and he nudges Ronin. “You should get some sleep,” he says. “Since you haven’t been.”

 

Ronin glares at him, but the circles are deep and dark underneath his eyes, and Nod can see his jaw twitching with holding the yawns back. “I’ll stay with her,” Nod continues. “You should sleep.”

 

“I don’t need to,” Ronin yawns in the middle of his sentence. “Yawns are contagious,” he snaps when he’s done.

 

Nod raises a brow. “Nice try.” He shoves Ronin lightly. “Go.”

 

Ronin’s eyes narrow, but the effect is ruined when he yawns again, this time a huge, jaw-cracking motion. “Fine,” he says curtly.

 

“See you in the morning,” Nod calls after him.

 

Ronin grumbles and closes his door with a snap in response. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This part and the next will be very much focused on MK acclimating; thus, there will not be much plot. However, next part heralds the return of Snowflake, precious baby that she is.
> 
> Thanks for all the comments--I love them. A lot.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dedicated to frostymaggie over on Tumblr, because some asshole is sending her anon hate.
> 
> BTW. About anon hate, before your regularly scheduled program: it's not fucking okay. Don't fucking do it. If you do that shit, you're despicable and vile and deserve to have all of the muddy puddles splattered onto you by passing cars. It's cowardly and shitty, and there's nothing to gain. Fuck anyone who sends anon hate.
> 
> Back to thousand lifetimes.
> 
> Tw abuse of an animal (although it appears as self defense).

**14\. Move**

 

“Nice to see you back in the field,” Finn says quietly as Nod armors up.

 

“Well, it’s nice to be back,” Nod replies, checking his arm guards. “She’s doing okay, Ronin’s arguing with the lawyer, so here I am, steering clear of it all.”

 

Finn gives him a Look, but says nothing as he checks the straps on the saddle of his chickadee.  “Boggans have been thin on the ground, but since we know for certain that Mandrake has rejoined them, it’s only a matter of time. Queen Mari’s hold over the forest is strong, but winter is the Boggans’ strongest season, so we need to be careful.”

 

“I know,” Nod rolls his eyes. “My dad died in winter due to a Boggan attack, remember?”

 

Finn looks like he wants to say something, but changes his mind. Instead, he mounts his chickadee, and Nod follows suit. They’re heading to the eastern quadrant today, where Nod will have a chance to update Bomba about MK’s progress. MK still isn’t out of bed, but she can walk around for short periods, just in time to celebrate Midwinter, he thinks dryly.

 

Bomba’s still angry about the whole thing (he keeps asking if MK can come home, and Nod doesn’t know how to tell him that MK ate their food; she’s never coming home), but he’s not angry at Nod, and that’s something.  He’s wrapping up the brief conversation when Finn shouts in warning.

 

A bat swoops over his head, and he rolls the chickadee, getting his bow up. Finn’s already loosed, and the bat avoids it nimbly, heading back toward Nod. It’s not until he’s loosed himself that he realizes that the bat is Snowflake. Her eyes seem frantic, and she circles back around. Finn’s got his tongue between his teeth, aiming, but Nod turns his arm aside. “Relax!” he shouts, putting his arrow back in his quiver. “That’s Snowflake—she won’t hurt us.”

 

“That’s a bat,” Finn starts.

 

Nod shakes his head. “It’s _MK’s_ bat. I hadn’t even stopped to think about how she’d be taking all of this, goddess...No, I can calm her down, but you’ve got to stop shooting at her.” Finn puts his bow down, but he doesn’t remove his arrow.

 

It’s good enough, he decides as he jumps off his bird on the branch. “Snowflake! It’s me, c’mon, calm down.”

 

Snowflake’s wings flap frantically, before she settles on the branch, looking up at him with glossy black eyes. He offers his hand, which she sniffs delicately, and he scratches her behind her ears. “She’s okay,” he says softly. “She’s just been turned into one of us, and hasn’t been dealing well with the transition.”

 

Snowflake chirps, and Nod hides a grin. “I’m sure she’d be happy to see you,” he assures her. “But if you’re going to follow me to Moonhaven, you can’t dive-bomb the other Leafmen. They’ll shoot you down.”

 

Snowflake makes a small, distressed noise in the back of her throat. Nod shakes his head. “They don’t know that you freed yourself of Boggan influence,” he tells her. “Since you were trying to get my attention, Finn thought you were trying to kill me.”

 

Snowflake chuffs, and he laughs. “No, obviously you weren’t trying. I think that Ronin’s home has a mews, if you want it. If not, I’m sure we can find somewhere for you to sleep.”

 

Snowflake takes off, gliding on her wings. When Nod turns to Finn, Finn’s mouth is hanging open. “MK managed to somehow domesticate a bat.”

 

“Maybe she should work with Lara in the hummingbird nursery,” Finn mutters, clicking to his bird to take off. Nod gets onto his bird, and they fly back to Moonhaven—carefully—and he breaks off to lead Snowflake to Ronin’s home.

 

It _does_ have a mews, and Snowflake crawls inside a hollow and looks pleased with herself. She lets Nod pat her head, before tucking it in and going to sleep. He races up the steps to MK’s room, and when he barges in, he finds MK with the lawyer sitting next to her—Anastasia, he reminds himself.

 

The law Jinn looks like a Leafman, with black hair pinned back, brown skin, and violet eyes. She wears green robes, and in one hand, she holds a small knife.  “Hello Nod, how is your lady mother?”

 

“She’s fine,” Nod says, leaning against the doorway. “Am I interrupting?”

 

“No,” Anastasia says coolly, tucking her knife away and standing up. She sweeps her hands across her robes, straightening it. She turns to MK. “We don’t have to do the ceremony until you want to, but I strongly suggest doing it before the Queen wakes up and society begins to open again.”

 

“So I can have a place?”

 

“So you will be protected,” Anastasia corrects. “There are ramifications of an unprotected Lesser Fae, particularly a young, pretty woman. Our families are not so varied that the introduction of new blood would be unwelcome. Ronin will never prey upon you; I cannot say that for some of the other families.”

 

MK shudders. “Thanks for letting me know.” As Anastasia passes him, heading for the upper floors, Nod bounces in anticipation. “What is it?” MK says.

 

“Snowflake found us.”

 

She blinks. “Are you serious?”

 

“Yep.”

 

“C’mon, I need to see her!” She struggles out from underneath the blankets, catching herself on the bedpost as she shoves her bare feet into slippers. Judging from the size, he’d guess they were Ronin’s, hastily cut to fit.

 

The thought both amuses him and makes him jealous. “All right,” he says, “but if you go all shaky on me and make me carry you back to bed, I’m blaming you.”

 

MK rolls her eyes as she walks carefully past him and down the stairs. Part of her exercise (she calls it ‘physical therapy’) has involved walking all over the clan house. Sometimes he takes her; sometimes Ronin does. Either way, it means she’s familiar with the layout.

 

When MK sees Snowflake, she coos. Snowflake comes awake enough to nudge MK with her snout, before heading back to sleep. She stays awhile longer, leaning on him as she smiles at Snowflake.

 

Snowflake, whether she recognizes it or not, is a little piece of home, and Nod hopes that the bat’s sudden move with them will help MK recover faster.

 

After all, Snowflake was to be a Boggan mount. What if...Snowflake could be coaxed to let MK ride her? Food for thought, at least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the domestic fluff continues.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Definitely some nsfw content near the end of the chapter.

**15\. Letters**

 

_“Any problem, big or small, within a family, always seems to start with bad communication. Someone isn’t listening.”_ Emma Thompson

 

_“Good communication is just as stimulating as black coffee, and just as hard to sleep after.”_ Anne Morrow Lindbergh

 

\--

 

“Dear Dad, today was a lot like yesterday, I slept a lot, tended to Snowflake, and still had issues climbing stairs. Now that winter’s set in, I hope you’re not going into the forest because you will get frostbite and die. Love, MK.” MK looks over her writing pad. “How’s that?”

 

“He’s more likely to die of hypothermia, not frostbite,” Nod says helpfully. He moves his king away from Ronin’s bishop, already plotting how to kill the bishop.

 

MK makes a notation. “Okay, hypothermia, got it.”

 

“Has he replied to any of these letters?” Ronin asks. His mouth is a solid line, but there’s a sudden hint to Nod that he’s just put himself exactly where Ronin wanted him, and now that he looks at the board, he curses himself. Goddamnit Ronin.

 

“No, but they’re gone whenever I go to leave another one,” Nod answers, biting his tongue as Ronin moves his queen.

 

“Checkmate. For the third time tonight.”

 

“Can’t you just--?” Nod complains, barely managing to repress the urge to flip over the board.

 

“My turn,” MK announces, putting the writing pad next to her and gesturing for the chessboard. Nod sweeps off the pieces as Ronin places it on MK’s lap, and they set it up. Ronin lets her be oak, because she complained when he gave her the birch pieces last time.

 

The chess set is easily older than Nod, and though Ronin doesn’t say much, Nod’s pretty sure it was Ronin’s dad’s. Ronin’s funny about his family—Nod’s scraped up enough over the years to know that Ronin’s parents died right around the time he was made General, and Nod’s pretty sure there’s a sister somewhere, but she no longer lives in Moonhaven, but she’s not dead either. He thinks.

 

Either way, the fact that Ronin is relaxing more about his family might say something about Ronin relaxing in general. Maybe.

 

Nod sprawls out next to MK as she moves her pawn in response to Ronin’s knight. “So Midwinter’s only a few weeks away?”

 

“Indeed,” Ronin says, his attention completely absorbed by the action on the board. “We tend to save the celebrations, because without the queen, Society is lacking. It’s a day to be spent with family and cherished friends.”

 

“My grandmother insists my entire family congregates to our tree for the entire day,” Nod says, watching as MK neatly avoids a maneuver that would have robbed her of a bishop, and in turn, takes Ronin’s knight.

 

They play a very bloody game of chess.

 

“So you’re saying you’re not going to be around?” MK says, wincing when Ronin takes her rook instead.

 

“Pretty much. Since I am officially unattached, Grandmother tries to introduce me to all of the eligible young ladies who are dazzled by a uniform and want to keep their family name.”

 

“Can someone explain that to me please?” MK asks, swapping a pawn for her rook. Ronin, frowning, complies. “I don’t really get the whole structure of names and clans. We’re a lot looser about that kind of thing. My mom kept her last name when she married my dad, for example.”

 

“Hasn’t Anastasia been discussing it with you?”

 

“Mostly in the whole ‘please take Ronin’s clan name so that the other clans who are desperate for some genetic variation won’t take you in without your consent and thus prey upon you' vein. Check.”

 

Ronin moves his rook to guard his king, glaring at MK, who smiles angelically.

 

“Families—like Nod’s mother—are subsets of the clans. For example, all Flower Jinn technically belong to the same clan, but each _family_ may focus on a specific flower—rose Jinn, violet Jinn, etc. The queen has a clan council, where she meets with the head of each clan at the start of each season—winter is obviously an exception.”

 

“But Anastasia said _you_ have a clan name,” MK says. She’s not being rude; she’s just—saying something. While Ronin formulates his answer, she takes a pawn.

 

“There are a few clans that form the pillars of Jinn society,” Ronin says more stiffly. He’d been okay with discussing the generics of Jinn society, but now MK’s going for personal. It’ll be interesting how Ronin responds. “Tara’s clan, my clan—together our clans formed the rudimentary Leafmen, before the Leafmen were considered an actual corps. My clan had more sons than daughters, and most to all of those sons entered the Leafmen. Some of them had children, but when you join the Leafmen, you declare yourself autonomous from your clan, so your children do not carry the clan name; instead they carry the clan name of the mother. Daughters carry the clan name, because we can always trust who the mother was.”

 

“So what happens when you’re the last one? Are you not allowed to join?”

 

Ronin stiffens even more as he takes MK’s queen. “Allowances had to be made, for me. Had circumstances been what they are now when I joined, I would have been forbidden to join the corps, but at the time, I thought my sister was to marry someone, and she would have carried on the name.”

 

“You had a sister?”

 

“Reiko,” Ronin says quietly, “and yes. It wasn’t until after I’d joined that she revealed to us that she had already logged the necessary paperwork with Anastasia and Queen Alys to declare herself autonomous, strip her of our name.”

 

Nod freezes. That is very, very rare, and happens only under the direst of circumstances. Since Ronin’s rarely spoken of his sister—if ever—and she’s not around, she used the autonomy to go traveling.

 

Lesser Fae don’t travel. They’re bound to one place. There are stories about Lesser Fae who’ve separated themselves from their home ground. None of them end happily.

 

MK blinks, hesitating from taking a pawn. “What does that mean, exactly?”

 

“She willingly cut herself from her home ground,” Ronin’s voice is completely toneless, and his movements are perfectly controlled, but it is the lack of emotion that gives him away, and Nod finds himself _aching_ for him. “Being a Leafmen means defending home ground. You give yourself over to it, blood and bone. Becoming autonomous without becoming a defender...”

 

MK looks like she wants to say she understands, but she won’t. She’s not a Jinn by birth, she doesn’t get that instinctive tie to _home_ , not yet. She will, but not yet.

 

“Also, check,” Ronin adds.

 

“Sneaky,” MK accuses.

 

Ronin smirks, and the moment’s gone. “Of course.”

 

“So families are a part of clans, and if you’re not with a clan, you have no standing. Do I have that right?”

 

“Yes,” Ronin confirms, ducking her attempt to steal his other knight as he takes back her rook. Ronin’s always been a ruthless chess player, and it’s interesting to see him play with another ruthless player.

 

Well. MK’s not so ruthless to take advantage of his emotional upset.

 

“If you don’t mind, I’m going to head to bed,” he yawns. “Leave you two ruthless warriors to your game.”

 

MK pats his thigh, not removing her eyes from the board as she fiddles with her pawn, currently two spaces away from Ronin’s part of the board, but Ronin’s queen is lying in wait.

 

Sleep comes easily, and he tries not to think about the subject that so obviously hurts Ronin for at least a couple of days.

 

\--

 

Except that he has no self control whatsoever and brings it up to Ronin when they’re alone a few days after. “Do you know—where your sister is?”

 

Ronin flicks a look at him as he hones his sword blade. It promises danger. He’d answer MK, if she asked, but he’s more likely to hit Nod. “No. I don’t.”

 

Because Nod is a glutton for punishment, he presses the point. “Why did she leave?”

 

“I don’t know,” Ronin says shortly. “Is there a point to this?”

 

“It’s just—she’s your sister.  My mom always wanted more kids, but Dad died before that could happen, and she wouldn’t marry anyone else so--.”

 

“Legally, she’s no longer my sister.”

 

“Blood’s still there.”

 

Ronin doesn’t move for a long time, and Nod thinks that it might be a good idea to get away while Ronin’s not going to chase him, but finally he unbends to say, “She sent letters. Once a year, for twenty years. She wouldn’t say where she was, but she would send letters with the most decrepit birds she could find that could find us, and they’d be funny and full of her adventures. She sent them to me, not to Mam and Dad. She sent me congratulations for making General, and that was the last time I ever received a letter.”

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

“I don’t believe she’s dead,” Ronin says stiffly, starting to move the whetstone down his blade again. “For what it’s worth.”

 

Ronin—is not doing a good job of hiding his emotional upset. If Reiko isn’t writing but still alive, then she must be ignoring him or something. Nod feels sympathy stir in his chest, and he places a careful hand on Ronin’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

 

“Don’t tell MK,” Ronin requests, his usually-brusque voice quiet, with a heartbreaking note of loss in it. “Let me tell her.”

 

“If she asks.”

 

“She’ll be joining my clan. She’ll have to get the history,” Ronin says, stepping out of his grasp. He seems—rattled, and Nod doesn’t blame him. “Don’t you have practice or patrol?”

 

“I think MK’s going to try to train Snowflake to let her ride her,” Nod offers, sticking his hands in his pockets.

 

Ronin wrinkles his nose. “She shouldn’t be out of bed for so long, not yet.”

 

“She hates the bed.”

 

“Ah well,” Ronin says, sheathing his sword and wiping off the whetstone, before sliding it into his belt pouch. “She’s on the mend. Slowly.”

 

“So the next time you’re on bed rest, do I get to say the same to you?”

 

“If you want a demerit,” Ronin growls. “Go away.”

 

Nod goes.

 

\--

 

He just got in from night patrol. He hates night patrol, because every time a Boggan nears on a bat, all he can think of is whether that bat wants to be under Boggan control, and Finn, Arya, _and_ Ronin have all talked to him about his hesitation in the field of battle, and how it’s going to get him killed if he’s not careful. He doesn’t like those talks. It usually ends with him being ordered to scrub the barracks.

 

However, Finn and Jansen (who’s in charge of the men’s corps and their barracks), pretend not to notice that for all intents and purposes, he’s moved into Ronin’s home to help keep an eye on MK, who’s becoming more restless by the day and makes attempts to get out of bed.

 

They usually find her in the mews, sitting on the floor and fast asleep as Snowflake cheeps at them.

 

Tonight, he helps himself to bread with honey in the kitchen before he inevitably staggers off to bed. If he doesn’t eat before he heads to bed, waking up is...not fun. At all.

 

He’s finished his bread and honey and is licking the remnants of honey off his fingers when MK stumbles into the kitchen, face red and breathing heavy. He looks at her. “You okay?”

 

She stares at him as he licks away the last of the honey. “M’fine,” her voice is thick, like she has a cold.

 

She’s not supposed to get a cold. He frowns. “Are you sick?”

 

“No,” she says, moving past him. “I need tea.”

 

“MK, you’re sweating and your face is red. It’s not that hot in here.”

 

Actually, for that matter, it’s chillier than it should be. He makes a mental note to talk to Ronin.

 

“I’m fine,” she says insistently, filling up the teakettle and putting it on the stove, before lighting it. “Why were you licking your fingers?”

 

“Honey,” he says with a shrug. “If you’re not sick, why are you drinking tea? You only pull Ronin’s blend when you’re not feeling great.”

 

She freezes, before looking down. “Oops.” She swaps it for the rosehip blend that he personally hates.

 

“Okay, now I know you’re not okay,” he goes over to her, pulling her arm to get her to face him. At his touch, her face flames even more, and he frowns. “Seriously, what’s wrong?”

 

“Your hands are still sticky,” she says.

 

It’s such a non-sequiter that he blinks. “What?”

 

He’s pretty sure he hears her mutter, “Oh screw it,” before she grabs his hand, and—he almost dies— _licks his palm_. “I can still taste the honey,” she mumbles, before delving her tongue between his fingers.

 

It tickles and is also _really_ arousing. “MK--,” he doesn’t want to pull his hand away but he kinda needs to know why.

 

No, his libido says immediately. You don’t.

 

Damn his newfound maturity, because he removes his hand from her, placing his (un-licked) hand under her chin and lifting it so she meets his gaze. “What brought this on?”

 

“Can’t you just—shut up and kiss me?”

 

His libido promptly takes over, and he mutters, “Okay but we are talking about this later,” before he leans down, kissing her gently.

 

Gentle isn’t exactly what she has in mind as she wraps a leg around his waist, and he moans approval into her mouth as he presses her back onto the counter, and she grabs his hand and guides it to her core, where he finds she’s wet and dripping.

 

Bricks fall into place and he stops kissing her long enough to press his forehead to her clavicle. “You...were not sick.”

 

She pats his head. “Nope,” she says cheerfully. “Get to it, soldier.”

 

He’s always been good at following orders, so he keeps kissing her as he moves aside the undergarments (he really, really hopes one of the Leafwomen got her her undergarments, because Ronin and her undergarments inspires interesting feelings in him), flicking his fingers over her clit (it’s in the same place as Jinn women thank the goddess), and she keens low in the back of her throat, her thighs clamping around his hand, but he keeps kissing her and working her clit until she comes—explosively—hitting her head on the counter behind her.

 

He jumps. “You okay?”

 

“That was good,” she smiles, rubbing the back of her head. She looks him over, licking her lips. He left his armor in the front room, so he’s just in his shirt, leggings, and boots, and his erection is clearly visible against the dark fabric. “Here, lemme.” She scrambles off the counter, dropping to her knees in front of him.

 

“No, not--,” MK grips his thighs, blinking up at him with liquid green eyes. That’s not fair.

 

“Please. This part, I like.”

 

“You’re sure?” he asks, because he knows from personal experience how easily that position can be used against you.

 

She nods, fingers unlacing his belt buckle. He muffles a groan in his hand when she pulls down his leggings to free his cock—the air against very sensitive skin is a stimulant, and when she wraps a hand around his shaft, pumping slowly, he clutches the edge of the counter for balance.

 

That pales to when she actually puts his cock in her mouth.

 

Her mouth is warm on the tip, and she tongues the slit, and he nearly comes right then—it has been _so long_ since he last got laid, and even longer since someone went down on him—but he’s startled into a long groan when she wraps a hand around the top of his shaft in a tight grip, and she pulls off long enough to grin evilly at him, before going back to work.

 

He’s vaguely jealous of whoever taught her to do this, but when she swallows him down, all thoughts fly out of his head until he’s pinned between her and the counter. One of his hands fists in her hair on a reflex, and she relaxes against it (okay, she likes that), working his shaft with her hand and the tip of his cock with her mouth.

 

He opens his mouth to warn her that, grip or no grip, he’s about to come, when he looks in the doorway and finds Ronin staring at the two of them. There’s a flush on Ronin’s cheeks, and since Ronin is a silent hunter at the best of times, Nod honestly has no idea how long he’s been there—it could be when MK fell to her knees, or just now.

 

Ronin’s eyes are burning, despite the flush on his cheekbones, and MK twists her hand in just the right way, and his eyes close involuntarily with the force of his orgasm, and by the time he forces them open again, Ronin’s gone.

 

He slides down until he’s sitting down, and MK leans against him contentedly. She doesn’t know, he realizes as he cradles her against him and the kettle whistles.

 

Maybe it’s best to keep it that way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AND THE PLOT THICKENS oh shit was a double-entendre wasn't it?
> 
> BTW, chess is going to be a theme.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which (some) discussions are had, and no one's satisfied with the outcomes.

**16\. Mad**

Ronin doesn’t say anything, so Nod doesn’t either. He doesn’t have a death wish.

 

“I’m going to learn how to ride Snowflake,” MK announces a week before Midwinter. Winter winds are whipping around the tree, but they’re snug and warm inside. MK finally feels well enough to eat at the table, and all of a sudden, they eat together all the time.

 

Ronin raises an eyebrow and passes her the radish slices. They’re pickled and just slightly sweet—MK can’t get enough of them. “Is that wise?”

 

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

 

“Most Leafmen are not accustomed to seeing one of their own on a bat,” Ronin says mildly.

 

“You know, the amazing thing is that I wear actual colors like other people, so I can’t be mistaken for something else,” MK observes, taking a heap of radishes and placing the platter within arm’s reach.

 

Ronin rolls his eyes, but Nod’s a little surprised to see a small smile. “I believe most of the Corps. would stop at the bat and not see the rider.”

 

“Then they need to work on their observation skills,” MK says, “Refill please?”

 

Nod refills her cup with water. In the spring, summer, and fall, while they’re able to, they flavor their water with anything from catmint to apple to sassafras. In the winter, some of the Jinn families have managed to preserve the herbs; maybe next winter they’ll have some.

 

“Is there a particular time you wish to do this?”

 

“Well, Snowflake’s up and awake an hour before dusk,” MK says, “but she does need to hunt. She’s done hunting by moonrise, though.”

 

“Absolutely not,” Ronin says with certainty, spearing a slice of shrew and putting it onto his plate. “There’s too much of a risk. If it was in the morning—that would be another matter. But any who could teach you to ride are out on patrol in the early to late evening, and since Mandrake is definitively with his Boggans, there’s too much of a risk of friendly fire.”

 

“I could teach her,” Nod shrugs, taking a slice of shrew for his own. “Since I tend to be a morning-early afternoon guy on the duty rosters.”

 

“You are not the teacher I would assign for a beginner,” Ronin says flatly.

 

“Well, I did kinda get the hang of riding his sparrow ridiculously quickly,” MK offers.

 

“Bats distribute their weight differently when they fly,” Ronin says archly, leaning on his elbow. “I wouldn’t imagine it would be a similar experience.”

 

“You’re just bigoted against bats,” MK accuses.

 

Ronin shrugs. “I haven’t hid that fact.”

 

MK’s pouting. It’s adorable. He nudges her calf under the table with his foot, and she squeezes his thigh in return.

 

“Are we still playing chess after dinner?”

 

“Don’t you have patrol?” MK asks petulantly.

 

“The remarkable thing about being the General means I control the duty rosters,” Ronin says mildly.

 

MK sighs, but she’s hiding a smile of her own. “ _Fine_.”

 

\--

 

He’d thought Ronin was the most ruthless chess player he’d ever known.

 

MK’s existence questions that fact.

 

By the end of the game (and it’s usually a toss-up who wins), there’s usually about five pieces left on the board. He’s stopped watching them play. It makes him too anxious.

 

Tonight, though, he has to repair his arm guards, so he heads to MK’s room after dinner (her continuing fatigue means that she’s exempted from dishes duty, but he’s told her once or twice that as soon as she’s better she’ll have several meals to make up for. Depending on her mood, she’ll either shove him or kiss him) with the thick needle and thread necessary for it, settling in one of the chairs under the lamp and getting to work.

 

The opening part of the game is always silent as MK and Ronin feel each other out. He hears the gentle tap of wood against wood as they move pieces around. It doesn’t seem like they’ve taken a piece yet—that’s usually when they start talking.

 

“Putting your knight there—that’s risky.”

 

“Not as risky as the placement of your bishop. You’re just _begging_ for him to get taken.”

 

“Am I begging?”

 

MK hisses, and he looks up to see that she’s taken the bishop with the knight, only for his queen to swoop in and take the knight. “You play mind games.”

 

“So do you,” he returns.

 

Nod looks up at that. He wouldn’t necessarily believe it of MK. Ronin? Yes. He works with the spies on a frequent basis, and he’s sneaky on top of that. But he’s never seen anything but genuineness from MK.

 

In return, MK swipes his rook, and Ronin’s smile is both proud and predatory. “Now you’re getting it,” he says, and they lapse into silence again.

 

Now he’s hooked, and he puts aside the arm guard in favor of watching them. MK moves her pawn forward, threatening the queen, smirking a little. Ronin doesn’t take the bait, merely moves his queen away, and she says, “Running away?”

 

“I rather value my queen,” he says dryly, “and if you think I didn’t see your rook lurking, you’re wrong.”

 

MK pouts again. “Check,” she says, moving her other knight into place. Ronin moves his king lazily, and she moves her knight away to save him from the queen.

 

There are few more moving pieces around, but he can tell that Ronin is taken by surprise when MK swoops in out of nowhere and takes his queen with her bishop. “The queen is my favorite piece,” she drawls, running her fingers over the grooves of the piece.

 

“I can tell how queen-oriented you are,” Ronin agrees, taking her rook in retaliation.

 

The game ends quickly after that. They rarely play more than one game a night, because—as much as she hates to admit it—it tires MK, and though she’s slowly adjusting, she still gets tired easily.

 

Ronin packs away the pieces and the board, putting it on one of the shelves in her small closet off the bed. She’s been dressing mostly their discarded clothing—leggings, shirts, etc—but she’ll have to be fitted for clothing her size, as well as formal clothing for some of the events coming up after Midwinter. There is a small gathering on Imbolc as they wait to realize whether winter will go on for another six weeks or not, and that’s the unofficial start to the Season.

 

Nod’s just grateful that he joined the Leafmen before he had to go to one of those. Formal clothing makes him itch.

 

Still, it could be interesting to see MK in her formal get-up. And if Ronin’s adopting her into his clan, does that mean Ronin’s going to have to make more public appearances as well? _That’ll_ be great. Ronin hates that shit.

 

Ronin takes his leave after bidding them good night—he’s working on the recruitment rosters. All of the rookies have to be placed with a more seasoned Leafmen for the first couple of months in the field, but thankfully _he_ isn’t seasoned enough to justify a duckling. Yet.

 

“So I’m pretty sure that Ronin walked in on us that one time,” MK tells him as he tucks her in.

 

He freezes. “How did you--?”

 

“Ronin wouldn’t meet my eyes the following morning. Don’t worry, we didn’t talk about it,” she yawns, “but he has looked at me differently since.”

 

Nod feels his blood heat. “Is he treating you wrongly? Because if he is--.”

 

“Nod,” MK says, amused. “You’re with us right around 90% of the time we’re interacting. He’s not treating me badly. He’s just acting...different.”

 

“He jokes with you more,” Nod says slowly. “He only jokes when he’s mad or dealing with Boggans or--.”

 

He joked with Tara.

 

He stares. “You think he...?” That...explain the burning look in his eyes. Nod won’t say out loud he’s pretty sure that that’s right around 50% responsible for his orgasm at the time. He tries not to think about it.

 

MK shrugs. “Dunno. I know he’s not mad at me, although I know he doesn’t want me to train with Snowflake. Whatever, I’ll wear him down. Obviously I’m not a Boggan, either. It’s just—I only have human understanding of this kind of thing, and what I do know kinda frowns on it.”

 

His heart squeezes. “If he—if you—I’ll step out the way,” the words hurt, but he forces them out anyway. “I mean, if you--.”

 

“Nod,” she says, leaning up to kiss his cheek. “I want you. You’re misunderstanding what I’m saying. My subconscious has been—weird about this. He’s still grieving Tara, and he needs to do that. For the record, I’m still grieving Mom. But I don’t know how poly relationships work here.”

 

“Poly?”

 

“Polyamorous?” She tilts her head. “Multiple partners in one relationship? At—where I’m from, poly relationships tend to be frowned upon, and people are expected to be fairly monogamous. For the record, _I_ was monogamous in the relationships I had. But I don’t know how they work here—if there are societal mores that I’m not aware of.”

 

“To the extent that I’m aware—and I’m really not, you’d have to be brave enough to ask Ronin about this, he understands Society a hell of a lot more than I do—I haven’t picked up anything.”

 

“I’m not going to do anything,” she says quietly, smiling slightly. “I’m just curious.”

 

“Curiosity killed the hummingbird,” he tells her.

 

“That’s interesting. We have a variation of that—curiosity killed the cat,” she hums, “but satisfaction brought it back.”

 

He blinks. Stomper culture is _weird_. “Good night, MK,” he says, leaning over and kissing her.

 

She cradles his face with her hands and deepens the kiss, before pulling away. “Good night, Nod.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time, we get to meet Nod's mom, haha. *cackles and steeples fingers*


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I *highly* recommend you listen to Celtic Woman's version of 'O Holy Night' while reading this.

**17\. Winter**

_“During the winter my attention was attracted to the changes in the stars and planets in the sky.”_ Paul Nurse

 

\--

 

He kind of hates family gatherings.

 

Scratch that—he loves to see his mom (some hawthorn Jinn is courting her—hir’ll never be good enough for his mother, but at the same time, she needs a little bit of light to hold onto through the harsh winter months), and his grandmother is always amusing, except when she’s at least three hard ciders to the wind. That’s when she starts bellowing.

 

“NOD WE’D BETTER FIND YOU A NICE JINN TO SETTLE DOWN WITH, BUT YOU’RE TAKING YOUR SWEET TIME DECIDING AND—“

 

On and on and _on_ like this.

 

He hasn’t told Grandmamma that he kinda has someone to settle down with—since MK hasn’t been inducted into Society yet, he’s not about to unleash Grandmamma on her. It wouldn’t be right.

 

Mom comes over to him, a glass of wintergreen brandy in her hand. She slips her arm through his as they turn to watch the little girls of his clan dance to bring the sun back at the end of the long night. “So, despite my mother’s misunderstanding, I hear you _have_ found a girl?”

 

“Who talked?” he asks, deeply unamused.

 

Mom giggles slightly, leaning into him. “Finn came by to pick up something. He happened to mention it. Are you bringing her to Hickory Hollow soon?”

 

“Unleash this place on her?” Nod waves a hand at his extended family. “She hasn’t coped with the transition completely, and she’s not officially part of the Society yet. She, Ronin, and Anastasia are doing the ritual after the New Year, to herald in new beginnings or something. I don’t understand law magic.”

 

“So you’re saying I won’t meet her until Imbolc,” Mom comments, sipping from her snifter.

 

“Yeah, probably. She doesn’t know much about Society yet, and while we’re working on that, Ronin’s got his hands full and so do I.”

 

“Shame there’s not a woman around to help her,” Mom muses.

 

He looks at her. “Are you offering?”

 

“Mother keeps me _very_ busy,” she says archly, “but I’ll see if I can find someone who is fairly apolitical. We have a few Elders who would appreciate it.”

 

“Talk to Ronin first,” he warns her.

 

“He’s the head of his family, why would I speak to anyone else first?” Mom asks, surprised.

 

Nod rests his elbows on the top of the balcony that overlooks the large floor in Hickory Hollow. “Mom, why didn’t you go into the Corps? Grandmamma is a berry Jinn, and Grandfather was an ivy Jinn, yet you look like you could’ve gone into the Corps.”

 

“I considered it for a long time,” Mom answers, and he’s glad she’s finally answering, because he’s been thinking about it for _years_. “Long enough that the time to heed the call of the greenlife passed me by. I ultimately chose not to, but it meant I didn’t identify with anything. By the time I met your father, it had become a mark of shame for the family that I wasn’t aligned with anything, so Mother thought that a Leafman was the best I could do.”

 

She smiles at him. “Of course, I didn’t care a whit for what Mother thought. Your father courted me—according to the unspoken rules—and Father approved of him, so we had our handfasting. And then you came along, and I knew you’d join the Corps. as soon as you were old enough.”

 

“Do you regret that I did?”

 

“No,” she says quietly, “family can be crueler than outsiders, and once you were old enough to enlist, before you would have been inducted into Society, I was happy to send you off, so you wouldn’t hear the things I have to pretend not to hear on a fairly regular basis.”

 

“People treat you badly?” He starts to stand up straight, but Mom tugs on him.

 

“They did. Not anymore, not since you helped save the forest, and not since Laryn began to court me. Zhe is very influential, and Mother desires the alliance.”

 

“Do you like hir?”

 

Mom shrugs. “I’m old enough to say that one Jinn is very much like another. I believe we can be content, and that’s enough.”

 

“It wouldn’t be enough for me.”

 

“No,” she agrees, brushing his hair out of his face. “But you and I lead ultimately different lives. You’ve declared yourself autonomous, out of the petty workings of the clan. I work within the structure.”

 

“Not completely autonomous, or I could avoid these gatherings,” he mutters rebelliously.

 

“Midwinter—it’s a time for family,” Mom teases. “Give your girl some love from me when you escape from here.”

 

“Will you cover my exit?”

 

“Mother’s more concerned about critiquing the dancers, so I think you’re safe.”

 

“Will you come by, meet her?”

 

“I won’t go there while Ronin is there,” she says crisply.

 

“I thought you—“

 

“Your father was killed while in his care. I may have been glad you joined the Corps. to take you away from the pettiness of the clan, but that still means you have a lower life expectancy than I do.”

 

Nod sighs. “I wish you two would smooth over that,” he says.

 

“You can wish for squirrels that jump over the moon, too, and get the same result.” She kisses his cheek. “Midwinter blessing, my son.”

 

“Thanks, Mom.”

 

\--

 

“I’m back,” he calls as he takes the stairs up, two at a time. “Hello?”

 

“Up here,” he hears MK call, and when he gets to the landing, he finds that the door to the sheltered balcony is open, letting the cold wind in. MK’s in a chair, covered with blankets, and Ronin’s in a chair of his own, also with blankets. Steaming cups of what he suspects to be mulled cider sit on the balcony ledge in front of them, and he joins them on the balcony, wrapping his cloak around him. “There’s more cider in the kitchen,” MK says absently, smiling slightly at the stars above. For Midwinter, the night is clear, and the stars shine beautifully.

 

“Why are you out here?” he asks, closing the door.

 

“Swapping songs,” MK says. Her voice is a little hoarse, but she seems content. “We have a lot of similar tunes, but different words. Like Greensleeves.”

 

“ _You_ sang?” he asks Ronin.

 

Ronin adjusts his blankets and says nothing.

 

“Besides, the night is beautiful. It was too pretty to stay inside, even if it is cold,” MK tucks the corners of the blankets more securely under her body. “Did you have a good time?”

 

“Not...really. Ronin, my mother might be visiting you soon.”

 

Ronin raises his eyebrows. “ _Your_ mother?”

 

Nod shrugs. “She has some ideas to kind of smooth the way.”

 

Ronin nods. “I shall anticipate her meeting, then.”

 

MK’s smile grows as a comet flares above them, and she takes a breath, before singing, “ _O Holy Night, the stars are brightly shining—it is the night of our dear Savior’s birth..._ ”

 

Her voice is pure and clear, and Nod settles at her feet on the cold wood to listen.

 

“ _A thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices, for yonder breaks a new and glorious morn...”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, ah, about Leafmen life expectancy.
> 
> I don't think it's high.
> 
> The oldest peoples we actually see in the Corps are the older Sentry dude (older Sentry dude, _I want to know your story_ ), and Ronin. Everyone else is fairly youngish, and I'd say Finn is probably pushing it at early thirties or so.
> 
> There's a quote from Tamora Pierce, how every Tortallan soldier is worth 10 Scanrans, but it's the eleventh that gets you? That's kinda how I see the population of Boggans to Leafmen. The Leafmen are better fighters, but there's fewer of them, and it can take a moment of inattention or too many enemies to overwhelm you. 
> 
> I have a lot of feels about the Jinn as a militarized society, and I'm not done working through them yet.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Discussion of politics (here meaning behavior, not the actions of those in power). Start of the clan arc.

**18\. Prepared**

One morning, two days before New Years, Nod heads downstairs to find Finn and MK watching the Leafmen tanners measuring a patient Snowflake for a saddle. “There will need to be three straps, one under the neck, one fastened under the wings, and one across the lower body,” Finn tells the tanners. One of them nods and makes notes on a thin piece of birch bark.

 

Finn’s leaning against the wall of the mews, but MK’s in a chair, blankets covering her legs. “Is there a way to design armor, like you do for the hummingbirds?” he asks the tanners.

 

The tanner taking notes shakes his head. “No. The head is not as defined, and since bats rely more on sound to map their surroundings, it is entirely possible that armor would dull that sense, and place Lady Mary Katherine in danger.”

 

Finn nods. “What about the bridle?”

 

“I don’t want a bit,” MK says firmly.

 

“What’s a bit?” Finn asks, before the tanner answers.

 

“It can be done, but—pardon me—flying this girl would be more of a partnership than flying a hummingbird or a chickadee,” the tanner says respectfully. “Since the snout is not as long as the beak and does not necessarily direct the rest of the body in flight, she would only go where you wished her to go if she wishes for it as well.”

 

“I wasn’t planning on it being anything else,” MK remarks.

 

The tanner nods. “It will be done.”

 

“The saddle will need to extend down her back,” Finn says, the note-taker writing furiously. “Since the body will be rolling with the wing-beats, the extended saddle will allow for greater stability for the rider.”

 

“It will be done.” The tanner rolls up his notes and puts them inside his coat. “This will take time,” he warns, “since we’ve been running low on leather, and—forgive me—but she is not a Leafwoman, and repairing existing saddle and other tanner-work would come first.”

 

“That’s fine,” MK says, waving a hand.

 

Snowflake crawls back into her hollow as the tanners leave. “So, does Ronin know?” he asks Finn.

 

“What Ronin doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” MK says airily. “Yet. I would like to surprise him.”

 

“He’ll certainly be surprised,” Nod mutters.

 

“I’d better get going before Ronin realizes I’m gone,” Finn winks at Nod, putting his helmet on. “Try not to spill the beans when Ronin gives you the side-eye? Thanks.”

 

“Is there a story there?” MK asks, standing up carefully. Nod waits—he’s already learned (twice) that if he tries to help her up, she’ll bite his head off.

 

“No,” he says, offering her his arm once he’s up. “Not at all.”

 

She peers at him. “Right.”

 

\--

 

“When’s the lawyer going to be here?” Nod inquires, sitting back in his chair. “I thought—if you were okay with it—that I’d stick around for the ritual.”

 

“You have patrol that morning,” Ronin says mildly, turning a page in whatever training manual he’s marking up with raspberry ink.

 

Nod rolls his eyes. “Yeah, but aren’t you in charge of the duty rosters?”

 

MK looks between the two of them, twisting her fingers in her blankets.

 

“I set you morning patrol on that day for a reason,” Ronin says, still mild, but Nod knows that tone.

 

“What, do you not want me there?”

 

“Nod, maybe you should,” MK stares, but Ronin cuts across her.

 

“No.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“It is clan business, not yours.”

 

He stares. “Since when do you care?”

 

“ _You_ have been exempt from most obligations. With my status, I cannot, and moreover, MK cannot. From this point on, anything that would cause gossip must be avoided, for the sake of her reputation. Yes, I care now. I must. We must be above reproach, and having you present at the ritual would cause gossip, which MK would reap down the road.”

 

“Caesar’s wife must be above suspicion,” MK mutters, before pressing her lips together.

 

“It’s not about you being above suspicion,” Ronin says flatly. “It’s about not saying to the community that you may have taken advantage of when you technically didn’t have rights. We have to tread very carefully—any misstep or potential misstep could cause major issues down the road.”

 

“What would happen if there were accusations of me being taken advantage of?” MK asks, eyes wide.

 

Ronin sighs. “You could be stripped from my clan, and given to the clan that the queen approves of. You would not get a say. Do you understand now, Nod?”

 

“So, what, you put me on patrol in advance?”

 

“Yes,” Ronin snaps. “How do you not get this?”

 

He finally decides to bite his tongue when MK looks at him. She turns back to Ronin. “Out of curiosity, how much trouble am I in?”

 

“None,” Ronin says, “but we need to teach you the politics as soon as possible.”

 

\--

 

It seems like the ritual goes well, because the little tight lines at the corner of Ronin’s eyes smooth away and MK seems more comfortable than she has been. She’s starting to move with her usual grace, and they celebrate. The two of them. Ronin’s out for the evening.

 

The next morning, though, everything goes to shit.

 

He’s out on patrol with Finn and a couple of other Leafmen who are a couple of years ahead of his peer group when an arrow slices up out of the trees and takes out Julian, riding point, with a screech.

 

Finn banks hard, and they turn their birds, already aiming nocked bows all around, but they can’t see anything.

 

One of the others is shot down by another arrow, and this time he sees it well enough to know it’s Boggan. He reaches for his horn, blowing into it as Finn finally spots the enemy.

 

They’re surrounded.

 

Oh fuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Conflict is rising on multiple fronts. *cackles*


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nod continues his string of bad life choices. Mara is a character created by queenmarykatherine--I'd complained to her, saying MK NEEDS A WOMAN MENTOR BUT IT CAN'T BE NOD'S MOM BECAUSE REASONS, and she was like, "You can use Mara!" 
> 
> So Mara doesn't belong to me.
> 
> Also, if you pay attention to what she and Anastasia say, it may possibly clear up a few questions that I've seen, or it may inspire new ones. *steeples fingers*

**19\. Outside**

 

“Any bright ideas?” Nod yells to Finn.

 

“Yeah, stay alive until reinforcements!”

 

“Brilliant,” he mutters, hooking the reins for Winter in his teeth and controlling her with his knees alone while he wheels her around, taking his shots.

 

The Boggans clearly learned some strategy since the last time they saw each other, because their arrows come up in a volley. Nod winces, forcing Winter into a dive to avoid.

 

Lucian is calling on the horn, longer and louder blasts than Nod had breath for, before it abruptly cuts off.

 

That’s three people dead. There are seven of them left, and with the sheer number of Boggans facing them, they need a miracle.

 

Which is of course cue for Ronin to lead the charge with at least fifty Leafmen behind him, all brandishing blade, staff, and bow and yelling incoherently.

 

“See? Told you we only had to stay alive until now,” Finn says, before they dive into the fray.

 

He loses count of the Boggans he shoots and cuts until he looks up and realizes they don’t have any opponents left. His body aches—the left side of his face is swelling, and he doesn’t remember when he got punched—and he has cuts and scrapes marring his armor and arms.

 

Ronin banks on his bird. “You’re off duty for the rest of the day. See the healers, and go home. Same for you, Finn, Liesl. You won’t be much good in your present state.”

 

They all nod, and Ronin looks Nod over. Nod suddenly feels incredibly slovenly, even if his state is entirely due to the battle he just lived through. Part of Ronin’s mouth twitches up. “MK’s fit to be tied. I’d be careful for potential threats to your safety.”

 

“Does she know?”

 

“We were eating breakfast when we heard your horn.”

 

Nod closes his eyes and sags. “Damn.”

 

“Indeed,” Ronin agrees, the other corner of his mouth lifting to match. “Have a good morning.”

 

“You’re leaving me alone?”

 

“It wouldn’t be called courage if you needed me.”

 

“C’mon, hero,” Finn says as Ronin flies off. “Let’s get you cleaned up before facing a battlefield of another kind.”

 

“Do you have any experience with this?” he says plaintively.

 

Finn laughs. “Please. My partner’s also in the Corps. We’re used to coming home with bruises and bloodstains. Now go make nice to _your_ partner.”

 

\--

 

Except that when Nod gets in, carefully scrubbed clean in a fresh uniform and smelling of pine, he finds Anastasia and an older marigold Jinn woman at the table with MK. The unknown woman is in a thick brown wrap (he makes a mental note to tell Ronin about the heating issue, even though these clan homes can be difficult to keep warm when they’re this drafty), and her scarlet petals are loosely tied with a green band. They’re all drinking tea, the weak morning sunlight pouring in through the windows. “Nod!” MK says, surprised. Then her eyes narrow.

 

The unknown woman places a hand on her wrist. “Please, join us,” the woman says. “My name is Mara, your mother sent me.”

 

Nod sits down, wary. He doesn’t know Mara, which is odd. “We’ve been discussing the necessary changes to Mary Katherine’s life to adjust to her introduction on Imbolc, and of course her official introduction to the queen in almost three months. Your clan’s designer will be here tomorrow, and I’ve already informed General Ronin that Mary Katherine needs to have a staff—as should he. The dancing instructor will be here in two days—we have a month until Imbolc, and quite a lot to be getting along with.”

 

There’s a reason they’re telling him this.

 

“However, there will need to be changes made here until the formal introduction to the queen,” Anastasia says quietly. “You cannot stay here any longer. You can be here to spend time with your friend, the woman with whom you helped save the forest, along with General Ronin, but you cannot _stay_ here.”

 

“What, why?”

 

“After her formal introduction, she can announce that she’s bedding who she likes,” Mara says with a shrug. “It won’t matter then. But it matters now. Young Jinn, before they’re officially accepted into society, must always lead lives above reproach.”

 

“I always felt that was stupid,” he mutters.

 

“And you’re right,” Anastasia agrees, “and given how this has been done, MK shouldn’t be assailed by suitors, which will be good for everyone involved. But surely you can last for three months?”

 

He looks at MK, who looks lost. “Yeah, I guess.”

 

“Good,” Mara says briskly. “Now, to work.”

 

\--

 

“Hey, look, about that whole thing,” MK starts as he heads out. Mara and Anastasia left about half an hour ago, and after listening to them go on and on, he feels like someone rooted a pointed stick through his head. Women Jinn _definitely_ have it harder. “I’m sorry, I just--.”

 

“Why do you care?” he asks, feeling utterly tired. “We’re not your people, not really, so why do you want to impress us?”

 

She stares at him. “It’s not about impressing, it’s about—being a part of a community. My behavior doesn’t just reflect on me, it reflects on Ronin, Anastasia, Mara—even you. No one exists in a vacuum.”

 

“But why do you care?”

 

She frowns. “The effects of me _not_ are bad.”

 

“Only if—you know what, whatever. You want to be a part of a culture that will always look at you twice? Be my guest.” He turns on his heel to walk away, but she grabs his wrist.

 

“What’s this about, really? Come on, Nod.”

 

“I don’t know why you want to be a part of this,” he sighs, “you didn’t have a choice, and—you could join the Leafmen, or just--. Instead, you’re willing to change for us. Why?”

 

MK blinks rapidly. “Community is important, Nod.”

 

“Yeah, so important you haven’t even bothered to contact your dad since you woke up.”

 

She narrows her eyes. “Go do whatever, Nod. You clearly aren’t fit to be around people right now.”

 

He goes.

 

At first, he tries to sleep, but his rising irritation makes that difficult. Then he tries to train, beating the hell out of a training dummy, but it only makes him angrier. He deals with this for an hour, and when he looks around the training room, he’s alone—except for Ronin, who’s leaning on the wall, blue eyes unreadable. Nod leaves the mangled training dummy alone, grabbing a small cloth from the bench and wiping his face. “Enjoyed that?” he snaps.

 

“You upset MK,” Ronin says mildly. “And it’s clear you’re angry, so why are you angry?”

 

“Why am I— _seriously_?” Nod throws down the cloth, propping his hands on his hips. “Why are you even putting MK through this? Did you plan for this? I mean, from what Nim said when we brought her to your home, it sounds like you had already contacted Anastasia. Why the hell does this matter?”

 

“If I recall correctly, _you_ had asked the queen if bringing MK back was possible,” Ronin snaps, jerking off of the wall and stalking toward him. “And I know she said she could do it, but only on a spring holiday, _with_ MK’s permission. So yes, I began to make plans—just like you did. What did you expect, Nod? That she’d come back, and be content in the Leafmen? Or just to be around us? That’s not how this works. People need community, and she can’t rely on just us. So yes, I contacted Anastasia to discuss the process.”

 

“This shouldn’t have happened, not like this, and now she’s doing all of these things to fit in with people who are never going to treat her like anyone else! Is there anything more cutthroat than Jinn High Society?!”

 

“Accept this—it did happen. And if you continue to act like she shouldn’t be here, that’s going to create deep-seated insecurity. I respect that you dislike Society, and so do I, but I couldn’t adopt her into my clan and not--.”

 

Nod, fed up with all this, screws up his courage and slams his fist into Ronin’s jaw. He feels a sense of bloody satisfaction when Ronin bends back from the impact, face as shocked as Nod’s ever seen it. “She deserves to be with her family—family she chose, not family she was suddenly told she’d be a part of,” he snarls.

 

Ronin wipes his lip, eyes hot.  “You mean her oaf of a father? Yes, such a brilliant choice—two people who clearly find it difficult to share space. And she had _time_ to choose if she wanted to be adopted into my clan. She had weeks, even. And she chose. You’re angry, but you’re taking issue with choices she made. If you’re angry at her, _be_ angry at her, but do not—do _not_ —make her feel small because you feel helpless in this situation.”

 

Nod throws another punch; Ronin deflects it. “Fight me, damnit,” Nod says, voice cracking.

 

“It’d be too easy,” Ronin says coolly, “you’re overwrought.”

 

A red haze seems to hang over his eyes, and his heartbeat rushes in his ears. His face itself seems to be hurting, and he lunges at Ronin without a second thought.

 

At first, Ronin deflects, but when Nod gets in a lucky shot of an elbow to the stomach, his face hardens, and he hooks a foot around Nod’s ankle and pulls. Nod falls, and before he can roll away, Ronin’s foot slams down on his chest. Ronin applies pressure lightly. “Are you going to stop now?”

 

Nod glares. “No,” he grabs Ronin’s ankle and twists, throwing the general off balance, before following it up with a kick to the shin. Ronin’s still wearing his boots, so it won’t hurt him, but it does knock him off his feet.

 

Nod tackles him, and then it’s completely undignified as they roll across the training room floor. Ronin manages to clip him in the eye with his elbow (“HRrk”), and then Nod socks Ronin in the stomach with his knee, (“Uguhhhh.”), before Nod ends on his back, pinned by an now equally furious Ronin. “Are we done here?” he growls.

 

Nod tries to move, but he can only move his neck as Ronin applies pressure on his wrists and knees. “You gonna get off me?”

 

“I said, are we done here?”

 

“When you found me and MK in your kitchen, why didn’t you say anything?”

 

Wow, was _not_ expecting that to come out of his mouth. Ronin apparently didn’t, either. Ronin frowns. “Excuse me?”

 

“You know, that first time?” _When MK went down on me and I saw you watching us_.

 

“That was the first time?” Ronin asks, flabbergasted, before reddening.

 

The anger leaches away into...something else. “Yeah, why wouldn’t it have been?”

 

“I presumed that--. Never mind. Are we done here?”

 

Nod feels his lips stretch into a smile. “No, no, go on—did you think we’d had our wicked way with each other long before that? I don’t know about you, Ronin, but I’d like my partner to be unconscious _after_ we’re done, not during.”

 

“Nod--.” Ronin looks flustered, and it’s _adorable_.

 

“But yeah, that was the first time,” he continues, and Ronin’s blush is spreading from his cheeks to his ears and the back of his neck. He feels a little thrill of power, and he says, “I’d come in off patrol and--.”

 

“I don’t want to hear this.”

 

“I fixed myself something to eat quickly, and she startled me, and at first I thought she was sick, because she was red and a little sweaty--.”

 

“Nod, stop.”

 

“But it turns out that--.”

 

“ _Nod_.”

 

“She wasn’t sick,” Nod blinks up at Ronin, who hasn’t yet realized he’s still pinning him to the ground. He can think about what’s going to happen next. He knows what’s going to happen next, and while it will be one of the most stupid things he’s done to date, it’s going to happen anyway.

 

Ronin clears his throat. “You should--.”

 

And Nod, in a stunning piece of absolute stupidity, cranes his neck and kisses his commanding officer.

 

At first, Ronin doesn’t react—he’s too shocked at the _presumption_. Then he rips away from Nod so quickly he’s halfway across the room before Nod can even _blink._  

 

“That— _cannot_ happen again,” Ronin rasps.

 

Nod props himself up on his elbows. “Why not?”

 

“Because—because--.”

 

“Because you’re my commanding officer?” he rolls his eyes. “Like that’s a barrier for other couples. Because I have MK? You might want to check with her on that one.”

 

Ronin blinks. “What?”

 

Nod pulls himself up, dusting off his hands. “I’m going to the barracks. But you should probably talk to MK. I don’t think she’ll be mad.”

 

Ronin’s brow is wrinkled, and Nod can feel his eyes on him as he leaves.

 

It makes him strut, just a little.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This marks the turn into the third arc, both the emotion and the action plots. *cackles more*


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The beginning of flying lessons with Snowflake, and this is the last chapter with Nod's POV. Yay! 
> 
> Also, if you've seen any of Regina's dresses from Once Upon a Time, they may have inspired what will be MK's dress. *cackles maniacally*

**20\. Diamond**

 

Nod hesitates before pushing open the door to Ronin’s home.  Ronin’s out, which is for the best—he needs to apologize to MK. He’s said some bad things, and he needs to make up for that.

 

He can hear her speaking a level up, and he jogs up the stairs, following the sound of her voice. She’s in the big room, with Anastasia, Mara, and a man he doesn’t know. The man’s got his arms around MK, but the space between them spells out how not-involved they are. They’re moving around the room, and he leans against the doorframe as he realizes that the man must be the dance instructor. “It’s step, step, pivot, step,” the man reminds her, and she nods, mouth quirking in a small smile. They start again, and MK follows his instructions perfectly. When he whirls her around, dipping her, she clings to his arms in surprise and giggles.

 

He starts when he realizes how long it’s been since he’s heard her laugh that unrestrained giggle of hers. _Too long_.

 

“Good,” Mara says approvingly as the man swings MK up. MK takes a step back, running her hands over her pinned hair, her cheeks pink with exercise. “You do that well.”

 

“A childhood spent in a dance studio,” she says, before half-turning and seeing Nod in the doorway. Her face falls, and Anastasia and Mara turn to see what caused it. “Ladies, can you give us the room?” she says unsteadily.

 

Anastasia goes, but Mara lags behind, glaring at Nod. He deserves that, so he squashes down his feeling of outrage. “You already sound like a lady,” he says softly.

 

“What do you want, Nod?’

 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t handle that well, and I’ve been feeling—helpless, and I don’t deal well with that, and I took it out on you, and that wasn’t fair.”

 

MK blinks. “Now who sounds like a gentleman?” she asks, her voice quivering a little.

 

He smiles slightly. “I really am sorry. This whole situation puts me out of my comfort zone, and while I wanted you to come back, this isn’t how I wanted it to happen. And I hate Society, so I guess I don’t understand why you’re trying to fit in.”

 

MK gazes off into the distance. “It’s not necessarily about fitting in to Society. This is important to Ronin, have you picked up on that?” He thinks about it, and admits he hasn’t. “And—no matter what I would have chosen, back before all of this, I knew that I’d have to adjust to navigate a cutthroat community. Dance, science—especially as a woman in a science field. So this isn’t as unusual as you’d think. I _am_ sorry you feel helpless, that’s not something I can help you with. I’m not saying this is something I would have chosen, but I’m here, and I’m going to make the best of what’s here.” She tilts her head up and smiles shyly. “Help me with dance practice?”

 

“I thought you’d never ask.”

 

\--

 

The next few weeks as they get ready for Imbolc is a group effort to pull everyone together. Ronin’s clan symbol is calla lilies, meant to accompany the queen’s symbol of water lilies.

 

The designer that his mother sent draws some designs, and when MK sees them, her jaw drops.

 

“Is something wrong?” Marcella ask coolly.

 

“I’m gonna look like a supervillain.”

 

“No,” Nod says cheerfully. He’s watched things with her, before all this happened. “It’s a white collar.”

 

“Oh, big distinction,” she grouses. “Ronin, what do you think?”

 

“My mother wore a dress like it for Queen-related occasions,” Ronin murmurs. “Is that where you took your design, Marcella?”

 

The designer nods. She’s a birch Jinn, and the leaves that make up her head jostle with the movement. “I remember her. Liadán commanded the fashion in her time—we all took cues from her.”

 

And that’s all it takes to get MK to agree with the design. Maybe Ronin intended for her to go along with it, or maybe it was an innocent observation, but MK’s still sensitive about mothers.

 

“Don’t worry, we’ll make sure someone does your hair properly for it,” Marcella assures her, tucking away the sketchbook. “It can’t be down or in that—what do you call that?”

 

“Ponytail,” MK says dryly.

 

“Yes, that,” Marcella wrinkles her nose. “Perfectly fine for rattling about the home, but hardly friendly for outside it. General, if I may have a moment of your time...”

 

Nod grabs MK’s hand when she’s not expecting it, and she blinks as he tugs. “Come on,” he mutters as the designer talks to Ronin. “Since he’s occupied, you and I can get away for a little bit.”

 

“What did you have in mind?” she asks, letting herself be dragged.

 

“How about your first flying lesson?”

 

He’s rewarded by MK’s eyes lighting up. “Really?”

 

“Well that saddle finally came in,” he shrugs,” so I don’t see why not.”

 

She beams. “Lay on, Macduff!”

 

Okay then.

 

\--

 

Nod sneaks upstairs. MK’s still in the mews, crooning to Snowflake. The first flying lesson went—really well. They almost don’t need any more. Hopefully Ronin won’t—

 

“Have you seen MK?” Ronin asks absently as he pads past the study. “I need to talk to her about something.”

 

Nod stands upright. “We were visiting Snowflake. In the mews.” He tries to pat down his hair, but since Ronin’s not looking at him, he can’t think Nod looks windswept. “MK’s still there. What are you working on?”

 

“Mara recommended a few people for MK’s staff,” Ronin’s frowning. “They’re fairly apolitical, and I’m just screening the last few. After that, she gets to choose.”

 

“What makes up her staff?”

 

“She needs a designer of her own—there are a lot of applicants for that, they all sent in designs—as well as a ladies’ maid, and apparently someone to manage her social schedule. We also need to hire a cook and a few maids to manage the place—Mara recommended a housekeeper and two housemaids—and I require a valet. Apparently. And my own social secretary, because unless it’s a ladies’ event, like tea or luncheon, I will be expected to accompany her until she has her handfasting—unless that handfasting is to a Leafman,” Ronin eyes Nod.

 

“We are so not ready for that,” he says, holding up his hands.

 

“And that means I’ll need to attend men’s events, like hunting and such.” Ronin pinches the bridge of his nose. “I have an entire forest to protect, what time do they think I have for this?”

 

“None of them have jobs, right?”

 

“Not like this,” Ronin glares at the paper littering his desk. “And I also cannot dress myself.”

 

He could say something like, “This is your fault,” or “You could always say no,” but instead he bites his tongue. Whatever he will say dies on his tongue as MK comes up the stairs, cheeks aglow. Her hair isn’t as windswept as his (thanks to the ponytail), but there’s still some flyaway hair there. “Hey Ronin,” she says, brushing dust off her clothes.  “What’s up?”

 

“We just need to pick your staff,” Ronin says, nodding at the chair across from his desk. “And some household staff as well.”

 

“Oh fun,” MK sighs. She trails her hand down Nod’s chest before stepping into the study. “Should I go make tea?”

 

“That might be wise,” Ronin says. “We could be here for a while.” He looks over at Nod. “Good night.”

 

Nod gets the hint, and goes.

 

\--

 

There are two weeks before Imbolc, and between picking/training staff, dress measurements (the first time Nod sees her in what is the closest version to the final copy, he has to go outside and laugh, only for her to sock him in the stomach when he comes back), and dance lessons, they don’t get a lot of time for flying lessons, but what they do get makes MK almost as good a flyer as he is.

 

The clan house starts to bustle again. Housemaids—two of them, two young Jinn women named Belle and Liliana (appropriately a rose Jinn and a lily Jinn), clean the house from top to bottom, making the entire place sparkle.

 

They’d been getting along okay with food, but with Luan (a Stickbug Jinn) as the cook, the lower levels start to smell good all the time. The housekeeper, Sona, keeps everything in good order, and MK starts being trailed all the time by her ladies’ maid, Giula (thankfully, the daisy Jinn can be bribed into not telling Ronin about their flying lessons).

 

Ronin relaxes a little—in fact, Nod doesn’t think Ronin’s noticed. This house holds lots of memories for him, and now that there are more people in it, those memories aren’t so loud.

 

MK has, though, and she starts smiling more (but not necessarily meaning it). She also starts touching the both of them more when they’re talking, and she drapes over their chairs when they’re working on something.

 

Nod doesn’t think Ronin’s talked to her, and he certainly hasn’t. But she suspects something’s up, nonetheless.

 

Once she puts it together, he wonders if the house is going to be big enough for the three of them.

 

He hopes so, anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And starting next chapter, we'll have Ronin's point of view all the way until the end!


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay for Ronin's point of view at last! Also blink and you miss it reference to _A Song of Ice and Fire_.

**21\. Thousand**

“Yes, you’re coming along nicely,” Tyrellan says with approval, watching MK execute the Butterfly Waltz perfectly with Nod. It’s a stately dance, and the dance she’ll be doing with Ronin on Imbolc night. That’s three days away, and thus far she hasn’t showed any nerves that Ronin knows she has. “General?”

 

He could do the Butterfly Waltz in his sleep. All of the dances are taught to young Jinn, and he remembers learning to do this with Tara (their dance master had despaired of them when they’d been more playful than actually trying to learn). Nod takes a step back as Ronin and MK face each other—he bows, she curtsies, and then he takes a step forward, offering his hand. She takes it, and her grip is exactly right—not too strong, not too limp. He places his hand on the side of her rib cage, and her other hand goes to his shoulder.

 

The Butterfly Waltz is so named because it involves the lead turning their partner as they move through the basic Box Step, and since most Jinn ladies’ fashion involves trailing sleeves and trains, the material flutters around them. Tyrellan wasn’t lying when he said MK was coming along nicely—her circular steps are even, without any threat of imbalance.

 

Of course, she’s in leggings, a loose shirt and bare feet, so the effect isn’t quite the same.

 

It’s around the fifth turn that he feels her relax completely, let him lead. He knows she has some background in dance—not this kind of dance (she calls it ‘ballroom’), but dance that has required partners, and that was more of a partnership or with her leading completely. She’d danced like that with Nod, not that Nod had been aware of it.

 

“Who would have guessed you could dance?” she teases lightly.

 

“My mother would have been fit to be tied if I hadn’t,” he replies. He chooses not to mention that it was his mother who insisted that he and Tara take lessons together—they were the closest in age between the two clans, and since their clans had always been on _extremely_ friendly terms, it had been “only natural.” He harbors suspicion that prior to Tara becoming queen, his mother had cherished hopes that they would get married.

 

“It’s amazing what motivates us when our mothers make it clear what happens if we don’t,” she muses, and her tone is still light and jesting.

 

“True enough,” he agrees.

 

The end of the Butterfly Waltz calls for the lead to dip their partner at the very end, when the music climaxes. She’d been practicing this with Nod, but they could never get the dip quite right. The lead moves their dominant foot between their partners, before twisting as their partner lets their weight rest on the lead’s arms. Nod hadn’t dropped her, but there had been a few close calls.

 

(Marina never insisted Nod learn the dances. Tyrellan had been teaching Nod as much as he was teaching MK).

 

It’s as they get into position for the dip that MK stiffens in his grasp and tries to be partners again, and perhaps that was the issue, that she feels insecure trusting her weight to someone else. “Relax,” he murmurs, moving his foot forward and locking his stance (honestly, how does Nod not get that the same stances he uses in training could equally be used here?), half-twisting his body around. She’s not expecting it, so he doesn’t get any resistance as she leans on his arms, his body cradling hers as her dominant foot extends in a perfect line.

 

Tyrellan burst into applause. “Perfect!”

 

He lets her up, and quietly, he says, “Do you not trust your partners?”

 

She glances at him, surprised.

 

“It took you a little to relax and let me lead,” he says.

 

“I have more background in dance than Nod does,” she says out of the corner of her mouth as she grins at Nod.

 

He inclines his head. That explains a bit.

 

Tyrellan claps his hands once. “I would like to see that again. Only—Lady Mary Katherine,” he sees her roll her eyes at the title, but Society is much given to respecting formality—there was no way she was going to be ‘Lady MK.’ “For the next run, perhaps you could put on your dress? Dancing in leggings, well, that’s simple. Your gown, however, requires more skill.”

 

MK sighs. “Simple,” she mutters, “right. All right, Giula, let’s go put on the damn thing.”

 

She’s not thrilled about the collar. He’s not thrilled about how the dress tapers downward—it’s a sheath, not a more traditional dress with a billowed skirt. Marcella had said it was because MK had such a pleasing profile, but he fought for and won that the neckline would cut across her sternum, instead of the deeper neckline the designer had wanted.

 

They will not be using Marcella’s services again. The new designer, a young Morning Glory Jinn, will be moving herself and her own staff in two days after Imbolc. Cora will be in charge of giving MK a spring wardrobe as her trial period.

 

MK had liked her designs. So had he—the designs had been flattering without seeming cheap.

 

“I’m going to go,” Nod says quickly, before MK comes back. “I’ve got patrol.”

 

“Go,” Ronin dismisses. Nod has not controlled his laughter whenever he sees the dress. It isn’t helping matters in the slightest.

 

“All right, here I am,” MK announces at the door, looking petulant.

 

Tyrellan nods. “And again!”

 

\--

 

Ronin knocks once on MK’s door, and Giula opens it. “General?” she asks, looking surprised.

 

“Is she decent? I need to speak to her.”

 

“I’ve laid out her nightclothes,” Giula says, “she usually dismisses me after that. She hasn’t put them on yet—I believe she is on the balcony.”

 

“You believe?”

 

Giula flushes, something that turns her face a deeper green. “She asked for privacy, General, and so I laid out her nightclothes and was preparing to head downstairs.”

 

“Very well,” Ronin restrains himself from rolling his eyes. “May I come in?”

 

“Of course, sir,” Giula pulls open the door and he walks over the threshold. As she said, MK’s nightclothes are laid out on the bed (another pair of leggings and a loose shirt, these of a softer material, more suitable for sleeping). Little touches indicating Giula’s presence are everywhere, from the dress hanging in the corner, a thin linen wrap over it to protect it, to the fire in the fireplace. The bed is neatly made, and what books MK’s reading from his library (part of the transition had laid knowledge of their language in her mind, so she could read their literature) are stacked on her side-table. “Is there anything I can get you, sir?”

 

“No, go ahead and head downstairs.”

 

She bobs a quick curtsey. “Yes General. Good night.”

 

“Good night,” he says, and once she closes the door behind her, he walks to the balcony and opens the door. She’s not on the balcony, but when he steps outside and looks around, he finds her on a tree branch two length over from the lip of the balcony. “MK?”

 

She jumps, and when she turns to look at him, he knows she is upset—and has potentially been crying, if the puffiness and redness of her eyes is anything to go by. “Do I need to come inside?” she asks.

 

The air temperature is cold and dropping rapidly, but if she’s upset, this conversation should not happen inside. He judges the distance from the lip of the balcony to the branch she’s on, and makes the jump with ease. “You will need to come inside soon, but not necessarily now,” he says dryly, “since I sense you’re avoiding something.”

 

She purses her lips at him. “I’m not,” she says.

 

He waits. She and Nod are alike, in that if there’s too much silence and tension, they’ll spill out whatever they’re thinking of. He can outwait anyone.

 

“Nod’s been so upset by everything that’s happened that I don’t want to tell him that I’m upset, too,” she says at last, wrapping her arms around her knees. The cold’s getting to her. “I don’t hate being here—it’s actually a relief in a lot of ways—but having to put myself out on, on trial for people I don’t even know, that’s really uncomfortable. I can’t do this. I wonder what I’m doing here, and what _Mom_ would have to say, and then it’s like something engulfing me. And it’s super important to you, I’ve picked up on that, so I don’t want to make you look bad or anything--.”

 

“Would it make a difference if I said I think you’re capable of it?” He tucks away the little bit about her mother—it’s not the focus of this conversation, but it should be the focus of _a_ conversation in the near future.

 

“A little,” she shrugs, “but this is social scrutiny on a level I’ve never even thought about.” She wipes at her eyes, and that solidifies his suspicion she’s been crying out here in the cold.

 

“True,” he concedes, “but I promise, if you can get through Imbolc and the equinox, you will be set. These two dates mean everything.”

 

“Wow, not helping with the stress, but thanks.”

 

“Come inside,” he says. “Have something warm to drink. I want to show you something.”

 

She looks at him, but with a sigh, she gets to her feet, jumping back to the balcony. “That balcony is a really good place to actually climb onto the tree,” she remarks as he follows. “Was it built with that in mind?”

 

“The clan homes were built so that the trees could continue to grow around the clan,” he says, closing the balcony doors as she pulls on a robe. “The fact that the branches encircle the balcony was not planned.”

 

“Huh. Still, it works. What did you want to show me?”

 

“Let me get it.”

 

She nods, sitting back in bed and pulling the covers over her feet. She must have been out there longer than he thought. As he exits her room, he spots Giula down the hall. “Giula?”

 

She hurries forward. “Yes, General?”

 

“Can you please ask Luan to send up a pot of spiced tea?”

 

“Yes, sir.” Giula heads downstairs, and he ducks into his room. Most of these things had stayed when he’d joined the Corps—his room at the barracks didn’t have a lot of space. In the back of his closet, he sees a small, rounded wooden chest with two doors, and he lifts up the chest from its nest of dust, before fumbling for the key, hanging on a ribbon on a hook. That he tucks in his pocket, before lifting the chest and returning to MK’s room. She’s nose-deep in one of her books (it looks like a history text), and she looks up when he sets the chest down on her table. “What is that?”

 

“Don’t get up yet,” he cautions, “I need to clean it off.”

 

Her eyebrows rise, but she settles back against the pillows, and he snags one of the hand towels underneath her basin of water, dipping it in to get it just a little damp, before wiping the dust off. The wood starts to shine in the candlelight as he works, and the hand towel is good and filthy by the time he discards it. “What is that?” she asks, and when he glances at her, he sees her sitting upright, book closed and next to her.

 

“Something very old,” he says, double-checking it for dust. It’s clean, so he lifts it again and brings it over to the bed. “It belonged to my mother, and her mother before that, and so on and so forth.” He wipes away a streak to show the calla lily on a shield, his clan’s sigil. “We both support and protect the queen—that’s the meaning of our sigil. I don’t know how much you remember of the citadel--.”

 

“There were marble floors,” she interrupts, her tone soft. “And calla lilies surrounding the water dish thing.”

 

“The dais,” he corrects quietly. “My clan helped build it, so they made calla lilies surround the dais, as a way to remind our society that we were a pillar and a protector of it.”

 

“That’s cool,” she says.

 

He brings out the key and unlocks the doors, and when they swing open, he hears MK gasp.

 

This was his mother’s jewelry chest, and in the shadows of the chest, he sees the glass, quartz, amethyst, and aventurine pendants shimmer. His mother’s jewelry was amassed over generations, and each lady of the clan added a few pieces until this collection was as large as it was. Each pendant hangs on ribbon or cord, except for one piece, the largest pendant in the collection—a aventurine hummingbird with smoky quartz for eyes, set on a silver chain. It was the wedding gift his father gave his mother.

 

Metal’s hard to come by, and what they find usually goes straight into the Corps, but the year his father handfasted with his mother, there had been a glut of it from a Stomper conflict, and there had been enough to make jewelry. His father had this made—the aventurine matched his mother’s eyes.

 

She didn’t wear it often, but she had loved it.

 

“These are pretty,” MK breathes, touching the pendants carefully. “Are they yours?”

 

“They technically belong to you.”

 

She stares at him. “What?”

 

“This is the jewelry of the lady of the clan,” he says quietly, “handed down generation from generation. Since you are the lady of the clan, they belong to you.”

 

“I can’t accept this,” she says, her voice quivering. “I’m not of your blood, and if there’s anything I’ve learned in the past few weeks, it’s about how important blood is.”

 

“The ritual brought you into the fold of my clan,” he reminds her. “As far as I am concerned, you are, and this belongs to you.” He opens the drawer underneath the doors, and light falls onto a large collection of pins and brooches—calla lilies feature prominently.

 

She traces a glass pin with the tips of her fingers. “This is beautiful craftsmanship.”

 

“Glass is hard to make, but not impossible,” he says. “The primary ingredients are sand and natron, which we can get. It’s the agents that give the glass the strong colors that are difficult to replicate.”

 

“So all of these are status symbols,” MK muses, picking up one of the rare non-calla lily pins, a bright red apple pin.

 

“Essentially,” he agrees.

 

She’s going to take them. He knows that. But just in case this hasn’t shown enough, he clears his throat and says, “I think you can do this.”

 

She looks at him, and her green eyes are raw. “You sure?”

 

He smiles slightly, squeezing her hand briefly. “Yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Stomper conflict mentioned above is the Revolutionary War. 
> 
> Also, here has my thoughts and ideas about metal (for example, they don't have metal arrowheads, because they can't retrieve the arrows) in the Corps.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you haven't noticed, I have this ridiculous love for Downton Abbey, so yes, Society is partially based on that.

**22\. Simple**

“Introducing the Lady Mary Katherine of Clan Caoiliainn,” the herald says solemnly as two perfectly matched pine cone Jinn swing open the doors to the Citadel.

 

He leads her into the hall, and as they carefully walk down the stairs, her hand tightens in his.  “You can do this,” he says from the corner of his mouth.

 

“It’s your strength that keeps me going,” she mutters in response, smiling widely at the crowd waiting for them. “If I fall down, will you catch me?”

 

“You’re not going to fall,” he says, his face straight. It would be unusual for him to smile; instead, he keeps his face impassive. “A few hilarious instances of misjudging distance aside, you’re fairly graceful.”

 

“I knew you laughed at me,” she accuses quietly, lifting her skirt carefully as they descend onto the final step.

 

“I admit nothing,” he murmurs, wheeling her around as the musicians in the gallery begin the Butterfly Waltz. They both slide into position, and he sees her mask falter briefly, before she firms back up, beaming. Only her eyes have the sheen of panic to them, and he only sees it because he knows her so well. “Breathe,” he orders as she places her hand back in his, the collar rising from her neckline giving her a rather interesting look.

 

“Breathing,” she says sardonically, but she takes a deep breath as he twirls her.

 

This part is the most crucial—if other partners join them on the floor, it means Society has accepted her.

 

She doesn’t know that. This is stressful enough.

 

On their third turn, two turns away from the first dip, he sees Aurelan Berige and her partner join them in a flash of skirts. MK’s dress is a sheath, with no trailing sleeves or skirt, but Aurelan’s skirts more than make up for it. As if hir had always planned to, Larch Auvergne joins with their partner, and he breathes a little more easily. Whatever comes next, MK’s been welcomed by Society, and accepted.

 

By the end of the Waltz, the entire crowd is dancing, and MK’s smile is no longer pinned on. “That’s good, isn’t it?” she asks, nodding at the other partners as they dance around the floor.

 

“It’s very good,” he confirms, forcing a slight smile as the music dies. Everyone claps the musicians in the gallery, turning to chatter with each other. Servants start to circulate the crowd with both alcoholic and nonalcoholic beverages, and before long, they find themselves talking with Aurelan, Lark, and their partners.

 

“You simply _must_ come over for tea,” Aurelan trills, laying a hand on MK’s arm, the one holding a glass of raspberry wine. MK’s other hand is tucked into his arm, and her grip on his forearm tightens momentarily before MK laughs.

 

“It sounds delightful,” MK enthuses.

 

“And we hold embroidery circle Tuesday afternoons,” Larch says. “Do you embroider?”

 

“Very badly,” MK confesses lightly.

 

“We’ll fix that,” Larch says conspiratorially.

 

“I look forward to it.”

 

“I’ll make sure my secretary sends you the invitation for tea,” Aurelan confides.

 

Aurelan’s partner, Petyr, leans toward Ronin. “We’re going hunting on Friday. Care to join us, if your duties don’t take you too far?”

 

“What are you hunting?” Ronin inquires, half-listening to MK, Aurelan, and Larch go back and forth.

 

“Mouse, but also potentially shrew, depending on what we can scare up. Since Winter seems to have decided to leave early this year, we have high hopes.”

 

Ronin musters enthusiasm. “Sounds exciting,” he says. “Send me the information?”

 

Petyr nods. “I’ll make sure you get it.”

 

The rest of the evening into the night goes on like that—multiple invitations to multiple events, and they both keep saying to send their invitations to their social secretaries (Ronin suddenly understands why a social secretary is necessary), and by the time sun starts to peak over the treetops, MK is blinking with weariness and leaning heavily against him.

 

“I think that went well,” she says as he settles her on his hummingbird carefully, with respect to the dress. She winds an arm around his torso after he mounts up, leaning against him as they head for home.

 

“You did well,” he says approvingly, clicking to Jewelwing, who takes off gently.

 

“I’m gonna crawl into bed and sleep all day,” she sighs. “Do I have any obligations that would keep me from that?”

 

He glances at her over his shoulder. She’s half asleep, and she smiles sleepily at him. “No, you have no such obligation,” he says. She veils her eyes with her lashes, and he observes how they fall against her cheek.

 

“Good,” she yawns, heading to sleep completely. Her body is a warm weight against his, and he settles in the saddle to make it easier for her to stay on. He even clicks to Jewelwing so that the bird slows down. It can be hard to sleep while in flight; she worked very hard tonight, and over the course of the evening he began to feel like _her_ companion.

 

It was a nice feeling. She’s going to be amazing.

 

By the time they get close to his home, she starts to stir. “Ronin?” she asks, her words a little slurred.

 

“Yes?”

 

“We almost home?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“M’kay,” she sighs, sitting upright as he leads Jewelwing into the mews. He slides from the saddle, assisting her down from the saddle. She leans heavily against him, but he needs to take the saddle and bridle off of Jewelwing, so he ushers her up as he does so, but he finds her sitting on a bench, leaning against the wall and dead asleep.

 

With a sigh—of either exasperation or fondness, he’s not entirely sure—he picks her up, and she mutters something before tucking her face against his neck. She’s much slighter than she should be, and he wonders about her food intake, and resolves to tell Luan to make heavier foods for the time being.

 

Giula comes into her room as he places her on the bed. “General!” she says, startled.

 

“Please take care of the dress; she had a long night,” he tells her, straightening his dress uniform.

 

“Yes sir,” Giula says. “If you don’t mind me asking, sir, did it go well?”

 

“It went well,” he confirms, and Giula beams. “In fact, it was done with perfect simplicity—almost like it was planned,” he says dryly.

 

“That’s excellent news, sir,” Giula bobs her head.

 

He nods at her. “Don’t wake her up until noon, if she hasn’t woken herself by then.”

 

“I will,” Giula promises as he leaves the room. It’s not until he’s in his own room, slowly taking off the pieces of his dress armor that the exhaustion of the night fully hits him, and he sags onto the bed, rubbing his eyes.

 

They both have done well, but this is only the beginning.

 

\--

 

“You have got to be kidding me,” she says flatly, looking at the calendar of events for the next month. At _both_ calendars.

 

“They apparently think I have nothing on my schedule so they can fill up the empty hours,” he agrees. Tara would have laughed—she had known how much he hated clan events _before_ he joined the Leafmen; the fact that he now has to attend them without being able to use the General title to excuse himself (much) would have her in stitches. He misses hearing her laugh.

 

Every single day for the next month has some sort of event on it, whether tea, luncheon, a dinner, or a party. Ronin’s is filled with hunts, the dinners that match her calendar, and other ‘manly’ activities.

 

“How are you going to manage this?” she asks, resting a hand on his arm.

 

He rubs his eyes. “Get away from what I can, remind them that I have duties and responsibilities to protecting the forest, and that they rely on me completely to save them all. Some of them, though? I will not leave you alone. Rather, I _cannot_ leave you alone.” He places a hand over hers, squeezing briefly, before stepping out of her grasp. “You impressed them, but you’re going to need to _keep_ impressing them.”

 

She sighs. “Piece of cake. And I’m going to need to change outfits at least twice a day. Is it going to be like this for forever?”

 

“Until Samhain, yes,” he says dryly. “Then we can live quietly again.”

 

“I hate this,” she mutters.

 

“Indeed,” he agrees.

 

“Wow,” Nod comments, coming to stand between the two of them. “I am _so_ glad I don’t have to be a part of this.”

 

MK shoves him. “Ass.”

 

“No, seriously, it’s kind of ridiculous,” Nod says, looking over both calendars on the wall. “What do they think you both do all day?”

 

“I read,” MK offers.

 

Nod nudges her in response. “Yeah, but you’ve got other things.”

 

MK nudges him back, this time with her eyes narrowed. Ronin doesn’t say anything, but he knows something’s going on there. More than their usual groping-in-coat-closets, of course.

 

He suspects that Nod is teaching her to fly that bat of hers. He has no proof, but it will not end well. If the bat was susceptible to thrall once, it will again. He knows this for a fact.

 

He just hopes she is not on the creature when it falls.

 

“Either way,” MK sighs, “my amount of free time has abruptly been cut out. And I appreciated our evening chess games.”

 

“I’m sure we can still fit those in,” Ronin observes, “though they may need to be blitz chess.”

 

“It’s about having the mind,” she explains, looping her arm through Nod’s.

 

“It’s thinking on your feet,” he argues lightly. While there are a few Leafmen who can match him, he’s interested to see where her mind takes her. Chess is a way to measure that.

 

“I guess,” she says, hesitant.

 

“Let the events begin,” Nod says glumly.

 

And so they do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ronin's clan name is the Irish-Gaelic play on the name 'Calla,' meaning slim or fair. I miss the chess games, but shit's going to go down soon and they're not going to be able to do that any time soon.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Backstory! *white girl dances*

**23\. Companion**

 

Ronin lights a branch of candles from the one he’s currently holding, and the lights placed along the walls suddenly flame. MK moves closer to him as the portraits that decorate the walls come into sharp being. They are not the most—flattering portraits.

 

“That’s you,” she says, pointing at the closest one. “But there’s a space--.”

 

“That’s where Reiko’s portrait hung,” he says, “but in declaring herself autonomous, she stripped herself of our name, and as far as the law in concerned, she was never a part of my—our family. That meant that every single piece of evidence that ever proved she was a part of the family had to be destroyed.” He feels MK grab onto his forearm, and he continues, “I managed to save her portrait though. Unlike other family portraits, it _was_ flattering.”

 

“Why would she do something like that?” MK asks, her voice hushed as he starts to lead her through the gallery. Underneath each clan head’s portrait is a finely-carved wooden plaque naming that head’s partner and their children (and their children’s children). There were a few clan heads who lived openly with multiple partners and had multiple children; it was the firstborn of all the children, no matter the partners, that became the clan head after. The plaques grow in size the further down they walk, until the plaques reach the finished floor.

 

“Multiple reasons, I would guess,” he says at last, “I never found out what happened. My sister was nine years older than I was, and I had enlisted eighteen months prior to her announcement, so I have no knowledge of what drove her to those extremes. And my parents never told me either—it caused quite the scandal.”

 

“I can imagine,” MK mutters. “I’m sorry.”

 

“She made her decision, and we had to live with it,” he says stiffly. “That isn’t what I wanted to show you.”

 

At the very end of the gallery, on the wall, are two crude renderings of the two warriors that came to the forest ages ago, from a forest a world away. The warriors had trained the prototypical Leafmen, turning them into the historical Leafmen, which closely resemble the Leafmen of present. These two were legends, the only positive stories that exist of Jinn who shunned their homeground. Even then, their story ends tragically—they were slain by Boggans in one of the first organized battles between the Jinn and the Boggans.

 

They stop at the end of the gallery, where two paintings reside. It’s a man and a woman, both of them wearing older versions of the current armor. The man looks serious, with deep brown eyes and level mouth, while the woman has a gently upturned nose and mischief tucked in the corners of her mouth. “This is the Ronin and Reiko of legend,” he says quietly as she examines the portraits. “They came from a forest a world away, and they taught us all they knew of battle and armor, and we haven’t truly diverged from their designs since. They took the fledging Queensguard and turned it into an army.

 

“My family were some of the first they trained—there are many Commanders in my family. They stayed with us while they were here, and my clan loosely adopted them. Our debt to them—cannot be paid. They ensured the survival of the forest.”

 

“And you and your sister were named for them,” MK murmurs.

 

“Every seven generations, my clan uses those names in the hopes that each Ronin and Reiko will bring honor and acclaim to the clan. I did.”

 

MK’s brows draw together, and he knows she understands why his sister’s betrayal was doubly scandalous. “I think that it’s time to retire the names from the clan book,” he says quietly. “It creates too much of a legacy, too long a shadow. No one can live up to multiple generations of success. You’re not just compared to the one before you—you are compared to all before you.”

 

“Yeah, sounds like a good plan,” she says, squeezing his arm again. “I was named for an aunt and a great-grandmother, but my mom told me once she wanted to name me Emma. She wanted me to have a name that belonged to me.”

 

“That’s an interesting way of putting it,” he muses, staring up at his namesake. “We venerate our history.” Tara had been named for her great-grandmother; she’d never told him about how she felt having a name that didn’t belong to her.

 

“Venerate all the history you want, but you’re still putting expectations on a child whose personality you don’t even know yet,” she replies.

 

“Fair enough.”

 

“This is what you wanted to show me?” she asks, looking at him. The candlelight catches on her earrings, and he looks back at the portraits. “This is a crucial part of your family history, isn’t it?”

 

“Your family history now,” he sighs, “and yes.”

 

“This is what ties up your family identity,” she says slowly, rubbing her arm as she wanders back through the gallery, looking at all of the figures, both flattering and not. “My family doesn’t have anything like this. I don’t know much about my dad’s family, but my mom’s left Ireland almost 160 years ago because of the potato famine, and everything they had of their family connections were lost in the move. There’s not much Irish immigrants could get on a ship and past Customs.”

 

In the candlelight, it looks like her eyes are glimmering with tears. She blinks furiously, and he remembers that that is her way of repressing them. She gestures in a quick, wild movement to the portraits. “This is amazing.”

 

“Sto—Humans don’t have things like this?”

 

“Some of us do,” she says, wrapping her arms around herself. “But some of us don’t, for a number of reasons. I may still have family in Ireland. I don’t know.”

 

“You’ve never thought of finding out?”

 

She shrugs one shoulder up and down. “It was never a priority. My mom and me—we were enough. And then with my dad, that had its own problems, and it just never really dawned on me to try to find them. Family isn’t as important as it is to you—at least not if you’re middle or lower class. Well, family history, anyway.”

 

“I am sorry,” he says sincerely, putting a hand on her shoulder. She smiles up at him.

 

“Nothing to be sorry for.” She takes a deep breath. “All right, where are we with planning that one thing?”

 

As distractions go, it’s a poor one, but it works. “Luan has informed me zhe will need about four days to get everything together, and the housemaids say they can prepare the home for all of our guests in that time, barring emergencies.”

 

“Knock on wood,” she mutters.

 

“Indeed,” he agrees. “We should head upstairs—I believe Cora has some pieces ready for you.” Good ones, too—stately designs.

 

“I live in joy,” she says dryly, heading upstairs. He pauses to blow out the flames—blow out one, and the rest go out. Practical magic.

 

Once all of them are out, he follows her upstairs, but unlike her, he has reports to deal with, so he pauses on his way to his office to check on her. Nod’s in the room, laughing with her as the designer moves pieces of clothing around her. She’s smiling, and when she looks over and sees him, her smile widens.

 

Which is when the one thing he has been attempting to avoid decides it has no patience for his continued ignorance, and beats him around the head. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I know that there was a discussion about cultural appropriation in certain circles when the film came out, and I agreed with the criticism. So I tried to find a way, in-universe, that would explain it. This is now my personal headcanon for it.
> 
> As for Reiko--she won't be coming back in this fic, but I've been debating about the sequel. I haven't decided yet; she's very unpredictable and she and Ronin, at this point, would not get along. At all.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A general trigger warning for injuries and blood in this chapter. Oh, and how poor communication kills.

**24\. Denial**

He spends the next three days avoiding MK and Nod. Nod is easy—just schedule him at all hours. Protocol demands the Leafmen get ten hours between shifts, and he keeps Nod so busy he sleeps all ten hours.

 

MK is harder. Nod at least sleeps in the barracks. MK occupies his home.

 

Still, her social secretary, Mara, and her designer keep her busy, but she’s not blind to the fact that they’re not spending any time together. They haven’t played chess together since before he showed her the portrait gallery, and with this dinner coming up, they need to be working together.

 

He just has no desire to do that.

 

Finally, near lunchtime on the third day of this, the third day he tries to take his lunch in his office, MK plants herself in the doorway and glares at him. “Did I do something wrong? Piss you off?”

 

“No, of course not,” he says, startled. He should’ve thought this was how she was going to take it.

 

“Then why won’t you look at me?” Her voice wavers, and when he looks more closely at her, he realizes she’s close to tears, and guilt pinches him. “Is it because you showed me your family portraits? You suddenly realized you don’t want me here after all?”

 

He reaches out and grabs her shoulder, unaware until this moment that her shoulders are bare, and her sleeves begin mid-upper-arm. He swallows, ignoring the urge to snatch his hand back. Her skin is warm underneath his hand. “No, I’m not—it’s not that.”

 

“Then what is it?’ she snaps, folding her arms over her chest, and glaring up at him. “What suddenly happened to make you not want to meet my eyes? Did Nod kiss you or something?”

 

He freezes. “W-what?”

 

She sighs. “And you just confirmed it. I’m not mad, but Nod and you have issues that I don’t know about, and I don’t know if I _want_ to know about. Did _you_ kiss _him_? Is that’s what wrong?”

 

“No,” he says through numb lips. He has been trying very hard not think about that, not while he still misses Tara’s easy smile. Whatever else he might have said dies a happy death at the back of his throat when he hears three short horn blasts. _Ambush_.

 

Her face changes. “That means Boggan ambush, right?”

 

“I need to go,” he says, moving around her.  She trails him, picking up her skirts as they run to his room.

 

“Let me help you with armor,” she gasps, “it’ll go quicker.”

 

This is true, but he’s loath to have her that close, tying the armor ties, so close he could _smell_ her...”No, I can do this.”

 

She falls back a step. “You _are_ mad at me!”

 

“No, but—I’ll explain later,” he promises wildly, pulling on his overcoat and tying it closed. “Stay here—Boggans never get this close.”

 

She disregards him, handing him pieces of armor, but at least she’s not tying it on him. “But I can--.”

 

“ _No_ ,” he says firmly. “Stay here.”

 

“So I’m just supposed to wait like a good little woman?”

 

He grasps her shoulders. “You don’t have the training,” he says firmly. “There’s nothing that you can bring to the table here. Stay. Nod and I will be back.”

 

He straps on his gauntlets, and then his sword and bow, and he leaves her standing there in his room while he heads downstairs to the mews. He ignores the bat, saddling Jewelwing quickly before mounting up and getting out of there.

 

Finn’s waiting for him at the western quadrant, and once he perches, Finn starts speaking. “Boggans first started appearing a few hours ago, but they were just hanging around. About fifteen minutes, they started fighting.”

 

“Who, us?”

 

“No, each other,” Finn says grimly, adjusting his bridle. “I’d be tempted to leave them be, but we’ve got families down there.”

 

“We give them a mutual enemy,” Ronin muses, looking over the area carefully. “How close to the fighting are the families down there?”

 

“Close enough that they’re panicking,” Finn says, turning to watch Nod perch his bird on the branch above them. “Nice of you to join us. What do you recommend?”

 

“Get the families out—the forest will grow back once the queen wakes up. There’s plenty of space for refugees in the clan homes and citadel. Try to keep out of the Boggans’ way—do not engage unless it’s to defend the families or yourself. Nod, go with Finn, you’re a good flier—help out the refugees.”

 

“But I—“

 

“What are you going to do?” Finn asks, speaking over Nod.

 

“Scout,” Ronin says grimly. “We’ve never seen fighting amongst the Boggans like this, and I want to know why. What are the indicators between the two groups? Did they just wake up and decide to fight each other? There has to be a reason.” He hefts his sword, grasping the hilt carefully. “This could get a lot worse before it gets better.”

 

“You shouldn’t--,” Nod starts, but Ronin ignores him, clicking to Jewelwing and directing the hummingbird down, out of the range of Boggan arrows but able to watch them.

 

There’s no apparent visual difference between the two fighting groups of Boggans—no colors or armor change to indicate which ‘side’ they belong to. There’s no apparent reason why they’re fighting—he can’t see Mandrake in this mess either.

 

His skin creeps under his armor. _Something is wrong_.

 

One of the Boggans in the mess of it looks up by chance and sees him, and the entire horde turns on him in an instant. He bites back a curse, jerking on Jewelwing’s reins and leading them away from the families. If they’re going to attack him, he may as well milk it for what it’s worth.

 

He hears a shout of “Ronin!” but he disregards it, flying toward Wrathwood as fast as Jewelwing can go. The Boggans follow in a line, and he realizes that the Boggans that were so close to the outer borders were not a random occurrence—there’s an entire line of Boggans leading straight back to Wrathwood. Whatever’s going on, the fighting is so vicious it’s spilled out of their base and into Jinn territory.

 

What the hell is going on there?

 

He’s distracted from his musings when an arrow whistles over his helmet. That was _too close_ , and he refocuses, directing his attention to directing Jewelwing up. The Boggans are starting to lose interest in him now that they’ve seen each other, and fresh fighting is breaking out now that the groups are bleeding into each other.

 

He’s so absorbed in watching them fight each other that he doesn’t see the Boggans on the branch above until they jump at him, tearing him from Jewelwing and dragging him into the crowd. He’s surrounded by a mass of Boggans on every side, and his breath comes faster as he remembers the _last_ time he was trapped like this, and he doubts that burst of strength will be making a reappearance.

 

The Boggans turn from killing each other to attempt killing him, his winter whites stark against their muddled grey.

 

_You will be very dead, and you will deserve it_.

 

He punches, kicks, ducks, elbows, and jabs until his arms and legs feel like they’ll collapse at any moment. He has cuts marring his armor, and he can feel both eyes beginning to swell, and his lips are cut and bleeding. A Boggan’s punch hits his nose and blood rolls down his throat, and when the next Boggan socks him the stomach, he makes sure that most of the vomit lands on them, to their disgust.

 

He can’t fall. If he hits the ground, he’s finished.

 

A Boggan clips him behind the knees and he starts to fold. Another Boggan raises their cudgel, and he closes his eyes, awaiting the final blow—“RONIN!”

 

The Boggans around him stop, and he looks up to see MK approaching on that damned bat like an avenging angel. The bat swoops down and the Boggans cringe away as MK thrusts her arm at him, and he locks his hand around her wrist as she does the same, and then the bat swoops off as MK pulls him onto the bat, behind her. He settles into the saddle—she has a _saddle?_ Since when?—holding onto her as she says, “C’mon, Snowflake, take us home.”

 

“You disobeyed me,” he gasps, putting a hand to his stomach. He can’t entirely tell, but he’s sure his ribs are bruised, if not out and out broken.

 

“I just saved your life, you ass,” she says, having apparently lost all patience with him. “You can thank me later.”

 

“You put yourself at risk,” he argues, but he doesn’t have the breath to say anything else at his chest’s stabbing pains.

 

“Are you having a heart attack?” she asks, pulling on the reins to alight onto a branch. She turns around to check him, her fingers moving over the laces of his armor. He shoves her away, nearly tumbling off the creature in the process.

 

“Don’t,” he gasps.

 

Her face falls, before her eyes harden. “We can talk about this _later_ , but Ronin, if you’re having a heart attack--.”

 

“S’not,” he says, closing his eyes. “Broken ribs.”

 

“Hold onto me,” she orders, taking up the reins again. “We’re going to Moonhaven, quickly.”

 

\--Except the creature isn’t moving, and is in fact moaning low in her throat. He’s never heard her make that sound, and MK hasn’t either, apparently, and she runs her hands down the creature’s neck.  “Snowflake? Baby? What’s wrong?”

 

“She may have broken from my thrall, but she is still susceptible to simple commands,” Mandrake says, walking toward them. That cudgel is steaming slightly in the wintry air, and Snowflake whines as MK tenses, putting her between him and Mandrake.

 

“Oh please, child,” Mandrake dismisses, “I do not mean either of you harm. I doubt I _could_ harm you, after that little show your queen put on, and as for him—he’s almost dead already.”

 

He sees MK’s hands tighten on the reins, and for the first time, he wonders if Titania’s spellwork means that MK will live a longer life than he or Nod combined. It is a sad thought. He still doesn’t understand how Tara died before he did. “What do you want?” she bites out.

 

“A promise of non-interference,” Mandrake says, leaning heavily on his staff. “It is a personal matter, nothing more.”

 

“It’s not personal when Jinn lives are put at risk,” MK snaps, and he taps her back. Don’t antagonize him. He looks over Mandrake, and realizes, to his shock, that Mandrake looks _old_ —his eyes have more lines around them than the last time they were this close, and his shoulders are slumped. His grip on his cudgel isn’t authoritative anymore.

 

‘Personal matter?’ He’s fighting for his throne—and his life.

 

“Collateral damage,” Mandrake dismisses, “they chose to live close to the borders.”

 

MK stiffens. “They have _families_.”

 

“They could move at _any time_. I only ask that you let us sort this out among ourselves.”

 

“Say yes,” he rasps to MK. Darkness is making his vision swim. “For the moment.”

 

“For the moment, yes,” she bites out, “but if Jinn are harmed in this quote-endquote ‘personal matter,’ we will not hesitate to attack. Period. No matter where they live.”

 

“Aren’t you passionate,” Mandrake murmurs. “That’s all I ask.”

 

When he’s not dizzy with pain and breathlessness, he’ll talk to her about presumption in survival situations. She’s not the General, he is, but he doesn’t disagree with her assessment in the slightest. “Are we safe to leave?” MK demands, tightening her grip on the reins.

 

“Of course,” Mandrake spreads his hands, jumping back when Snowflake tries to bite him, horror in his face, and Ronin hears MK murmur, “Good girl,” before they fly off.

 

He loses consciousness on the way back, slumped against her back, and he comes back in time to hear her say, “—need help! _Please!_ ”

 

Hands remove him from Snowflake, and he tries to fight them, but he hears Finn’s voice, “Easy Ronin, we’ve got you and you’re safe.” He relaxes, letting the hands remove him and put him on a stretcher. 

 

His consciousness doesn’t last much beyond that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone gets their Crowning Moment of Badass. Even Snowflake.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> General trigger warning for ableist slurs, grief, and discussion of injuries.

**25\. Look**

When Ronin finally wakes up, his body is stiff and aching all over, and he can feel the pressure that means bound bones—he peeks under the blanket of his bed to see that his chest is bound, as well as two fingers. His ankle’s in a splint, but it feels like a sprain, not break. Bruises litter his arms and legs, and he can’t see his chest, but he knows it’s bruised too.

 

“Nice to see you awake,” Finn comments quietly. His helmet is at his feet, but Finn gets up heading for the water pitcher. “Something to drink?”

 

“Please,” Ronin rasps, trying to sit upright.

 

“Woah, easy,” Finn tells him, putting down the pitcher to help him up. “You’re going to take a lot longer to heal this time, don’t overextend yourself now.” He lets Ronin go after he’s upright, grabbing the simple cup and giving it to Ronin.

 

“What’s this?”

 

“Water—healers say you can’t have any kind of alcohol for the near future, it’ll mess up the medicines and the spells.” Ronin nods once, before sipping the water. He hadn’t realized how parched his mouth was, but he’s careful.

 

Once he’s taken two small sips, he asks, “How long was I out?”

 

“About three days while the healers worked on you,” Finn says, settling back into his chair. His hair’s in a tail today, and he tugs on it briefly before refocusing on Ronin. “Finally sent MK out to get some rest about three hours ago. She and Nod barely left your side while the healers worked.”

 

“Where’s Nod?” Ronin asks, taking another sip of water.

 

“Patrolling, has been for the last five hours. The Boggans’ haven’t left where they were, but the families are out and sequestered with the civilian clans.” So they’re not in his home. “Nod sent himself out before I could order him to go. MK was harder.” Finn’s gaze turns hard. “Look. I don’t know what happened, and I don’t care. But this was a mistake—the General Ronin I know would _never_ have been so stupid to fly out to scout on Boggans alone, especially in this kind of situation. He never would have been so careless not to examine the area around him, and he _definitely_ never would have let himself be thrown off his mount into a horde of bloodthirsty Boggans.”

 

“Finn--,” he starts. He doesn’t know what he’s going to say.

 

“You’ve been off since Tara died. I get that. But whatever between the three of you got you so distracted that you completely forgot protocol, and that’s not acceptable. Fix this—or break it. Do whatever you need to do to make sure that this never happens again, because next time? It _will_ kill you.”

 

Ronin finishes the cup of water, and he gives it to Finn, who refills it. “I’m getting old,” he sighs at last, cradling the cup between his palms.

 

“We’re all getting old,” Finn says, sitting back down. “But you have more cause than most.”

 

“How did they do?” Ronin asks, swirling the cup between his hands and watching the water twist like it means something.

 

“MK was very attentive to what the healers had to say,” Finn says, “she might end up being a healer herself, that one. She’s got the right turn of mind for it. Nod mostly stood out of the way, but I could tell he was furious. We had to cut you out of your clothes, but thankfully none of the Rot actually got past your skin.”

 

“MK has healing magic?” Ronin struggles with this briefly, before letting it rest, because thinking about it hurts his head too much.

 

“I don’t know,” Finn says, leaning back in his chair. “But she’s got the right mind for administration. She cancelled the dinner, by the way. Said it wasn’t right to host it while you were out of commission.”

 

“She didn’t want to host it by herself,” he grunts in reply, readjusting the blankets. The brazier needs fresh fuel.

 

“Well, no, who would?” Finn gets up and sticks his head out the door. “Can we get more fuel, please?” He comes back inside. “I’ve taken over the Corps. until you get better, but this means you’ve got to deal with paperwork.”

 

Ronin wrinkles his nose, which Finn catches and rolls his eyes at. “Nice try. Now get some rest—healings always leave you drained.”

 

“I’m not a child,” Ronin grumbles as Finn helps him lie down.

 

“No, but you’ve been acting like one,” Finn says, tucking the blankets in. “And how many times have you given me the variations of this lecture?”

 

“The tables have turned,” Ronin says, his words turning into a yawn.

 

Finn’s small smile is fond as he picks up his helmet. “I wish I could enjoy it more.”

 

\--

 

“There’s a difference between like and love,” Tara says, her hair down and fluttering between her shoulder blades in the morning breeze. Then her nose wrinkles as her eyes light up with humor, “Supposedly. That was supposed to be philosophical, wasn’t it?”

 

Ronin looks down at himself, and sees that his body is whole and that he is in the standard uniform, not his General’s uniform. “T-Tara? But you’re--.”

 

Tara moves past him to pet a calla lily. “I’ve always loved calla lilies,” she confides, “I always wanted the miniatures in my hair. When I’d pictured our handfasting, I knew that they’d be in the bouquet.” The calla lily swells at Tara’s touch, and her smile glows. “Ronin, you can’t leave yet.”

 

“But I--,” _want to be with you_.

 

Tara turns to him, resting her hands on his shoulders and looking up at him. Her gaze is old, as ancient as the forest itself. “You have to let me go,” she says. “Mourn me. Always love me, as I know you will. But you have to let me go. Attachment isn’t love.”

 

“You are my queen.”

 

“Was,” she corrects. “You have a new queen now. You always loved me, just as I always loved you, but you fed that love into duty, until your love was the act of your duty to me.” He looks down, and she lifts his chin with two fingers. “You have to separate the two again. You have to let me go.”

 

“I can’t,” he whispers, closing his eyes. His body is shaking a little.

 

She wraps her arms around him, resting her cheek over his heart as he cradles her in response. “You can’t die just to be with me,” she says as a tear of her own falls down her cheek and hits the ground, a flower blooming where it fell. “I—I wouldn’t let you find me if you did that. And you’ve come close. Twice. Please, Ronin, let me go. You keep me tied here, and I have my own duties. The fallen queens help protect the forest’s magic, and it needs me more than you do.” She wipes away his tear, kissing her fingertips. “Please. Let me go.”

 

“I don’t know if I’m strong enough,” he confesses.

 

She laughs a little, that bell-like burbling he’s always loved. “You are stronger than you can imagine, my love. I am not your strength. You are.”

 

Carefully, he unwinds his arms around her, before taking a step back and falling to one knee. “I love you, but--,” he hates himself, but he knows about duty, “you have your duty.”

 

“And you have yours,” Tara says, locking her hands behind her back. “Say it. Please.”

 

He screws his eyes shut. “I let you go.”

 

There’s a hiss of magic in the air, and when he looks again, she’s gone, but that _sense_ of her remains, and he hears, “I’ll always be with you in some way,” before she’s gone.

 

\--

 

This time, when he wakes up, MK is touching his forehead lightly with a damp cloth. As he blinks awake, she beams in relief at him “Oh thank god,” she murmurs. “Finn said you woke up while I was resting, and I felt super guilty, but he said I needed the sleep and--.”

 

“It’s fine,” he says, his voice gravelly. “Is there water?”

 

“Yeah, yeah,” she says, putting the cloth in a wooden bowl and going over to the side-table to pour him a cup. “Let me help you up first,” she urges, carefully wrapping an arm around his shoulders and moving with him until he’s seated upright, pillows supporting his shoulders and lower back. Once he’s settled, she hands him the cup and sits down on Finn’s chair, her back straight with repressed nerves.

 

“How long has it been since I first woke up?” he asks, after he’s wet his tongue and throat.

 

“About half a day. Nod came in about an hour ago, bruised and whatnot—the healers are tending to him now. He’s meeting with Finn and some of the intelligence people, but he should be here soon.”

 

“I should apologize—to the both of you,” he says, leaning back against the pillows. “I have been treating you both badly, and it is not fair to either of you.”

 

MK’s lips quiver. “You don’t get to do that. Not you,” she says firmly, crossing her feet at her ankles. “You’ve never made me feel weird about this whole thing, so you don’t get to pull that shit, okay? Whatever happened, we’ll fix it.”

 

“I—yes. We will,” Ronin says quietly. They deserve that much, at least. Freezing them out was a child’s response, and he has not been a child for a very long time. “Very well.”

 

They sit together for a little bit in silence, and after he drains his cup, MK refills it without asking. He thanks her with a nod, sipping it. Nod comes into the room about halfway through the cup, stripping off his armor and leaving it on the floor. Ronin stares at it, but Nod meets his gaze challengingly, and leaves it.

 

Ronin’s skin itches.

 

MK sits on his bed so that Nod can have the chair, and Ronin clears his throat a little as Nod sits down. “I owe the both of you an apology,” he says awkwardly, looking down at his hands. “I have not been treating either of you well, and for that, I am sorry.”

 

“Why?” Nod bites out. “Why did you do that?”

 

“Nod--.”

 

“It’s a fair question,” Ronin says, overriding her protests. “But one I do not have the capacity to answer at this time.”

 

“That’s not good enough--,” Nod starts, but MK puts her hand on his arm.

 

“He’s still recovering, Nod,” she says, “stop. I’m sure that once he has the capacity to answer it, he will, right?” She locks gazes with him, and Ronin nods, unable to force the words past his throat. “So we’ll just have to take this now. Are we good? No more freezing us out?”

 

“No more,” he agrees.

 

MK beams. “Good! All right, Nod, Luan needs me for soup tastings, and I think Finn said something about patrolling?”

 

“Busy little thing,” Nod mutters as she goes out. Giula is waiting for her outside the closed door, and MK closes it again as she leaves. He turns to look at Ronin more seriously. “Did this start because I kissed you? Because I didn’t mean for this to happen and that was out of line--.”

 

“It’s not,” Ronin cuts across him. He grimaces. “Well, mostly not. I was not aware you...felt that way.”

 

“Multi-partner relationships are not unheard of, not even at your level,” Nod points out. He shrugs one shoulder up and down. “And to be honest, MK talking about it gave me the idea. I’m not uncomfortable with it, but it is a little strange, you know?”

 

“Only the animal clans tend to fall into multi-partner relationships,” Ronin muses, “but then, this is not an animal _or_ plant clan, so there’s that. And I do understand where you’re coming from about it being strange. I practically raised you.”

 

“Not entirely,” Nod disagrees, “remember, you weren’t really in charge of my training, not until I was made full Leafman, and while you checked in on me, you didn’t really raise me—you just trailed after me and told me not to do things.”

 

“Which you would then do anyway,” Ronin sighs, leaning back against his pillows.

 

“Your face when I did them was hilarious and worth the punishment work afterward.”

 

“I knew I should have found a better incentive.”

 

“And the next time someone like me shows up, you will,” Nod shrugs, standing up and stretching. “She wasn’t kidding about Finn sending me on patrol. The Boggan conflict is still happening, but nowhere near where families live, so it should be okay. You going to be okay?”

 

He smiles faintly at Nod. “I believe so. Go patrol.”

 

“Or what?” Nod challenges, raising his eyebrows, but the corner of his mouth twitches.

 

Ronin’s mouth twitches in response. “You have to sit with MK and her social secretary to plan out March.”

 

Nod’s face twists in horror, and Ronin smirks. “See? Better incentives.”

 

“You’re evil,” Nod accuses, checking his armor lacings.

 

“No, merely crafty.”

 

Nod sticks his tongue out and he leaves. Ronin sighs. That—did not go as badly as he feared, but it could have gone better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finn is my favorite, and I adore him.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For starters, I'm so sorry I didn't update last week--I had a lot of things due and emotional shit, so here we are!
> 
> I don't I've got any trigger warnings for this chapter, although if something in this chapter does trigger you, as usual, leave me a message in the comments and I'll edit it in.
> 
> Politics in this chapter.

**26\. Thanks**

“So what would your mother have thought of about all of this?” Ronin asks MK a few days later. He’s well enough to be in a rolling chair and receive guests (oh the _indignity_ ), and they’re taking a break to have lunch out of on the terrace. The smell of spring is in the air as the sun shines down, and while the air is still cold, the warm food and sunlight make it bearable.

 

“She would have been—I don’t know,” MK sighs, sipping her tea. It’s her preferred rosehip and violet blend, and it steams its fragrance lightly around them. “I don’t think she’d have been okay with me not going to college, but I think she’d also have liked me making a life for myself here, you know?”

 

“You have been doing well,” Ronin murmurs, taking a bite of his hot soup. Potato with cheese—his favorite. He feels a pang at the thought of Tara—she’d always preferred cheese and tomato.  “I admire you for that.”

 

“Give me the patience to accept what I cannot change, you know?” MK takes a bite of her own soup and nearly moans. “Luan is a _god_ , anyone’s lying if they say otherwise.”

 

“I will be sure to pass it along to hir,” Ronin says. “What are your activities for today?”

 

MK wrinkles her noise. “I have tea with the ladies this afternoon, barring emergencies.”

 

“I guess that’s my cue?” Finn asks, walking out onto the terrace. Ronin looks up at him, and MK pushes out a chair.

 

“Join us,” he invites, passing him a plate and cup. Finn slides into the waiting chair as MK pours him a cup of tea (he’s partial to MK’s blend, something that amuses Ronin sometimes). Finn smiles at MK, pulling off his helmet. His hair is in some kind of braid today, and Ronin despairs of him.

 

“Thank you,” Finn says, taking the radishes from MK.

 

“What’s the issue?” Ronin asks, leaning on the armrests of his chair.

 

“While the Boggan unrest has been kept to the borders, there have been Boggans who’ve been attempting to make inroads into our territory. They are apparently unlinked to the current conflict—according to those my people were able to capture. The rest got away. I can’t figure out what they want, since they’re not destroying or killing anything. They’re just...moving through our territory.”

 

“Do you have a map of everywhere they’ve been found?” Ronin asks, pushing away his half-eaten soup. He catches MK’s Look, but he’ll finish it later.

 

“Yes, that’s what I was hoping to talk to you about,” Finn says, taking a small roll of birch back from his armor.

 

“Spread it on the table,” Ronin instructs, levering himself up and out of the chair. Before MK can say something, he says tartly, “I can do this part myself, thank you.”

 

He doesn’t say how badly his ankle trembles at the action, so he shifts his weight to his less dominant food subtly and he leans on his hands on the table, looking over the map.

 

The Boggan conflict is outlined in blueberry ink, and sure enough, that’s staying just barely inside their borders. However, the ‘unlinked’ Boggans are traveling through the forest, and their path is marked by raspberry ink. He pushes the map over to MK. “What do you see?”

 

“They’re heading toward the clan homes,” she says, frowning at the map. “No—they’re heading toward the clan homes that border the Leafmen barracks.”

 

Which are his clan and Tara’s clan, what remains of it. Her clan has the same problems his has had, with more of them going into the Leafmen instead of populating their clan. Her parents are gone, but the current Clan Lord is a distant cousin that Tara never knew very well.

 

“I don’t think the Boggans are unlinked,” MK says slowly, tracing one of the paths with the tip of her index finger. “I mean—Mandrake said that we need to keep out of this, right? That this was an internal Boggan matter.”

 

“We try to avoid interfering with their politics,” Finn says dryly, “even if they don’t do us the same courtesy.”

 

“What if...” MK bites her lip as she thinks, and Ronin watches the flash of her teeth as she worries her bottom lip. “What if the Boggans fighting Mandrake’s control need help?”

 

“So they’d ask us for assistance?” Finn shakes his head. “Nothing would ruin their credibility more with their kind.”

 

“There are ways around that,” Ronin says mildly.

 

“Like—don’t the Leafmen have a ‘shoot-on-sight’ order for Mandrake?” MK looks at them, and Finn nods, apparently interested in where she’s going on this. “And if they manage to lure Mandrake past the borders, conveniently past where the Leafmen sleep, if he happens to get killed by the Leafmen, well, that isn’t technically their fault, is it?”

 

“They’re trying to find the easiest path,” Finn says, eyeing her with respect.

 

“And Mandrake is proud, so he can be easily led,” Ronin points out. “We wouldn’t be complying with the Boggans, because since when do we work with them? And the Boggans couldn’t be accused of conspiring with us for the same reason. Everybody wins.”

 

“So, you think we should let them do this?” Finn asks, raising his brows.

 

Ronin needs to sit down, but if he does, then MK will know he’s overextended himself and then she’ll flutter around him.

 

“I think we should let the situation play out and see what happens,” he tells Finn, sliding over gently until he can sit down in his chair. He doesn’t look at MK, trying to make it seem as natural as possible, but something tells him she noticed. “Honestly, at this point to act otherwise would invite the kind of scrutiny we’re trying to avoid. Continue to run patrols, continue to run them off.”

 

“What if you made them think that there was one path that was easier than others?” MK wonders, tracing the map again.

 

Finn pauses. “I had been thinking about that. This has only been happening in the last two days, so I’d like some more time to see if that’s what they’re actually doing, but if it continues, that’s exactly what I’ll do, if Ronin’s okay with it,” he hesitates, before adding, “The thing is—if they’re so desperate for this kind of help, using us to get rid of the current king isn’t going to smooth over our conflict anytime soon.”

 

“Good point,” Ronin muses, pulling his soup back over. “Unfortunately, I’m not certain as to whether this conflict could ever be resolved—not after they murdered Tara.” He looks at the both of them, and realizes, again, that all three of them had their lives irrevocably changed because of Mandrake’s greed and lust for power. “Do what you need to do, Finn. I’ll back you up.” He picks up his spoon and starts to finish his now-chilled soup, but it’s still good.

 

“I’ll bring reports by tonight,” Finn says respectfully, nodding to MK, who beams at him as she sits down. Once he’s cleared the terrace, she picks up her teacup, eyeing him over its rim.

 

“You overextended yourself,” she says.

 

He sighs. “Yes.”

 

“Ronin, you _can’t_ do that,” she says, blinking. “ _Please_. I—we can’t lose you.”

 

“I’m not in danger of dying,” he points out.

 

She stares at him, putting down her teacup. “Did you miss that lecture from the healers? Because I didn’t. The more you overextend, the longer it will take for you to get better, and that means you’re more vulnerable.”

 

“I haven’t consented to dying,” he says quietly.

 

Her eyes are suddenly misty, and he belatedly remembers that she watched her mother die, and he sighs. “I’m sorry. You are correct.” The wind picks up, and he feels a chill. “Take me inside, please? I believe I will lay down.”

 

She gets up without any hesitation, and guilt pinches him more. As she moves his rolling chair from the table, he places his hand over hers. “Thank you. For looking after my welfare.”

 

She shakes her head. “It’s no problem at all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise, the action will pick up next chapter!


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the action picks up again!

**27\. Order**

Minimal armor, which means vambraces, cuirass, greaves, and—

 

“You’re kidding me, right?” MK asks from the entrance to the mews. He turns to look at her, not betraying his surprise. He’d thought she was busy with the ladies above. “I mean, you’re barely standing on your own.”

 

It’s true, he _is_ trembling badly, but he’s flown on Jewelwing in worse conditions. “I need to do this,” he says flatly, checking his armor lacings.

 

“No, you really don’t,” she disagrees, coming toward him. She’s dressed fairly casually today, in a simple sleeveless green dress and light pink wrap. Her hair is down, and she will not be required to pin it up until she handfasts. She lets her wrap loosen around her elbows as she takes his helmet away from him, tucking it under her arm. “What would this accomplish?”

 

“I want to scout,” he says, frowning at her. “None of the other Leafmen can be spared for it, and it will just be flying. I won’t be low enough for Boggans to forcibly dismount me.”

 

“Right, and you’ll be completely camouflaged,” MK says, arching her brows. “It’s not like you’re wearing _bright green armor_ on a hummingbird.”

 

It sounds vaguely familiar, and he scowls at her. “We need more information.”

 

She crosses her arms across her chest, and she looks annoyingly like Nod when she does that. “Not you. You need to rest. Your ankle’s barely finished healing, and now you want to stress it out more?”

 

“I am the only one who can be spared.”

 

She glares up at him, before sighing. “ _Fine_. I’m going with you. And we’re taking Snowflake—she’ll be easier to ride than Jewelwing.”

 

“What—no, it’s too dangerous.”

 

MK gives him an unimpressed look as she chirps to Snowflake, who crawls out of her hollow and presents her throat to MK for scratches. MK obeys, saying, “If it’s too dangerous for _me_ , a girl who’s in the peak of health and fairly limber, it’s definitely too dangerous for you, older man with broken ribs and a just-healed ankle.”

 

“I have more experience--.”

 

“You’re not going by yourself,” she says sternly, “because if you try, you’re not going. Duare,” his valet, “will be here when I shout, and you better believe Finn will come when I send him a message, and then the four of us will stand there while you’re in bed. And stare in judgment at you.”

 

“That may happen anyway,” he points out, clutching at the wall as his knees tremble. He’s getting old.

 

“Fine, we will judge you less,” MK offers, taking down that overlarge saddle and chirping to Snowflake, who moves forward so that MK can strap it on.  “And take off your armor, we’re not going in something that will identify us so much.”

 

“Right, because what you’re currently wearing is so covert,” he remarks, unlacing his armor.

 

She rolls her eyes as she fastens the last clasp of the saddle. “I’ve had some things made.”

 

“What kind of things, because we do not dye with darker--,” he cuts himself off as she goes to the cabinet that, to his previous knowledge, had held various leatherworking tools, to fix saddles and bridles and the like, but now she pulls out dark brown (almost black) leather trousers and shirts. There are even covers for their boots, gloves, and hoods. “How long have you been planning this?” he asks at last, catching a complete outfit once she pulls it together and tosses it to him.

 

“Finn and I have had conversations about bats and the Intelligence Corps,” she shrugs, turning her back and slipping off her dress. Ronin looks down, realizing the leather trousers are loose enough to be pulled over his leggings. It’s a laborious task, and once he’s finished pulling on one leg, MK’s attired completely. The hood hangs down her back, and she looks at him while pulling her hair into a braid. “He thought that this might be an avenue worth following—do you need help?”

 

No.

 

“Yes,” he says, sighing.

 

“Sit down,” she tells him, pushing him toward the bench. He acquiesces, stiffening when she kneels in front of him, pushing the other leg of the trousers up over his knee.

 

“I’ve got this from here,” he says, refusing to look at her hands splayed over his knee and lower thigh.

 

MK huffs out a sigh. “Fine. Do you need help with your shirt?”

 

He moves slightly, pulling the leg of the trouser all the way up. “In a moment,” he says, tying the pants at his waist. It ripples uncomfortably over his leggings, but he’s not about to change that. His boots are dark enough that he does not require the boot covers, he realizes, and that makes his shoulders slump slightly in relief. He would really like MK to get up off her knees in front of him.

 

MK stands up, shaking out the leather shirt. It laces up in the collar on the back, and he can’t lift his arms higher than his shoulders thanks to his broken ribs, so he will definitely require her assistance.

 

He just hates it.

 

She strips off his shirt gently, and he sees her subtle attempts to check his bandages around his chest. “My chest is as firmly bound as ever,” he says patiently. “And yes, I am aware that Duare has some healer’s training.”

 

MK hums as she moves his shirt over, pulling the leather shirt over his head and straightening the sleeves so that he can push his arms through. She seems familiar with this, and he gives her a Look. “Yes, I did ask the healers to send a few candidates when you were finally looking for a valet.”

 

“Sneaky,” he comments, leaning his head forward so that she can lace up the back of the shirt.

 

“Oh please, like you would have done something different should I have required it.”

 

“Giula does have some training, actually,” he tells her as she ties up the ends of the laces, tucking in the trailing ends so they won’t catch on a branch.

 

“Again, doesn’t surprise me, so now that we have managed to do the same thing to each other, can you please tell me why you’re in such a hurry to get back to work?” she asks, fastening his hood to the links on his shoulders.

 

“I hate feeling useless,” he admits, taking her arm as he hauls himself up from the bench.

 

She gives him a fond look. “I know you do,” she says softly, whistling to Snowflake, who’s at the mouth of the mews. Snowflake looks at them over her shoulder, as if demanding that they hurry up, the sun is going down. The temperature is dropping as the sun sets, and he’s grateful that MK chose leather.

 

“Walnut stained?” he asks as MK helps him mount up. He plucks at his shirt, looking at her as he settles in the saddle.

 

“Yeah, Finn’s idea. I think he’s creating a proposal for you and the Intelligence Corps., about domesticating more bats and creating a counter-corps., since the Boggans aren’t going to shoot bats.”

 

“Were you supposed to tell me?” he asks dryly as she sits in front of him, chirping at Snowflake to go. He grabs her waist as Snowflake drops, coming up out of the fall mere moments before she’d hit the ground.

 

The damned bat chuffs, and he scowls when he realizes that was intended to startle him. It worsens when he hears MK smothering a giggle.

 

“No, probably not,” she agrees, pulling on the reins lightly, and Snowflake turns, smooth as butter. “I think you should agree.”

 

“Because you’re completely unbiased,” he says.

 

“Hey, who better than me to say how effective this can be? Oh hello, who do we have here?” MK pulls Snowflake carefully, and when Ronin looks down, he sees three Boggans, moving quickly along the forest floor below.

 

“Follow,” he instructs, and she nods, leaning forward and Snowflake copies. They’re not too close to the Boggans, but he can see them better, even in the rising twilight, and he raises his brows when he realizes that they are unarmed except for knives. This is not a scouting force, unless they trust that when the Leafmen see them, that they’ll run them off instead of shooting them.

 

“Just so you know, I do have a knife,” MK says quietly. “Nod’s been training me in the basics.”

 

His own knife is strapped to his calf. Old habits die hard. “Keep it sheathed unless there is a visible danger,” he murmurs in her ear.

 

She nods, keeping Snowflake flying evenly above the Boggans. They’re moving _very_ quickly, and while they’re looking around, they’re not looking up.

 

That settles it for Ronin—they’re not the military. The militaristic Boggans are paranoid and they check all directions when they’re moving through Jinn territory, since so many Leafmen are mounted these days.

 

These Boggans are civilians, and that begs the question, why are civilian Boggans traveling as such a fast speed through Jinn territory as though they’re being—

 

Hunted.

 

“Land in front of them, right now,” he orders her, and MK complies, bringing Snowflake down in an arc that had Snowflake been a hummingbird, he would have lauded MK’s skill in handling her.

 

The three Boggans freeze as he slides off of Snowflake, and MK copies him, watching him carefully but not physically supporting him. “We’d heard rumors,” one of the Boggans breathes, surprising him. With the exception of Mandrake and his son, he’d never heard them speaking discernibly. “About a Jinn who’d managed to ensnare a bat.”

 

“I didn’t ensnare her,” MK snaps. “She _chose_ me.”

 

“What are you running from?” Ronin asks, shifting his stance as though he’s preparing to attack. He’s not sure if he could follow through, but they don’t have to know that.

 

The Boggan in the middle—the one who spoke—looks frightened. “It’s a long story.”

 

Ronin gestures to the land around them. “We have time.”

 

The Boggan sighs, taking off its helmet, and it looks more like Mandrake, with darker skin and yellow eyes. “I’m Rue, and my people are currently fighting Mandrake for the control of Wrathwood.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *cackles loudly*
> 
> Next chapter, I'll get to play with Boggan politics, and that'll be fun.


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Politics, blasted politics.
> 
> I joke, I joke.
> 
> TW for beheadings here.

**28\. Sunset**

Ronin sucks in a deep breath at the Boggan’s blunt statement. MK is not as surprised as he is, and she demands, “So you’re in our territory because--?”

 

“Speak properly,” one of the other Boggans barks, stepping in front of Rue. “This is the queen-candidate you’re speaking to.”

 

Rue is—Ronin looks over the Boggan more carefully, but he can’t see any signifying markers that would mark the Boggan as female in any way. He sighs internally.  “Very well. Lady Rue, why are you in Jinn territory?”

 

The Boggan’s fright increases. “It is the only place we can safely lay our heads for the night,” she says haltingly.  “Mandrake seeks my head.”

 

“And why should we care?” MK asks bluntly.

 

Rue stiffens. “Mandrake has been king for too long. It is time for a change of power. No rightful ruler would have slayed the life of the forest. We must exist in balance.”

 

“Interesting speech from Boggans,” MK says waspishly, and one of Rue’s guards rumbles, but Ronin lets her speak.

 

“Not all of us are like him! He just happens to lead the military,” Rue argues. “On the Wolf Moon, a Boggan can put themselves forward as a candidate for the crown, and I did so, arguing that Mandrake’s greed for power and control put us all at risk. The Jinn will never forgive us for killing their queen, and the Seelie have a way of annihilating their enemies over time. I wished for us to live. Mandrake wishes for us to die.”

 

“So what happened?”

 

“She was nearly killed by his guard the moment she finished her speech,” the first guard barks. “We got her away, and we have been embroiled in conflict ever since.”

 

“This isn’t how the candidacy process is supposed to go. The Boggans must speak with one voice to decide on their candidates, and then those candidates fight in the arena, and the last one standing is the rightful ruler. Mandrake didn’t even have the courtesy to allow me that,” Rue spits.

 

“So what do you want from us?” Ronin asks, leaning against MK in what is supposed to look like a lounging maneuver. “You’ve been taking shelter in our territory.”

 

“Do you want us to kill him for you?” MK adds.

 

Rue’s face becomes masklike. “If you did, my ruling could be contested by any Boggan who felt like it,” she snaps.  “But—“

 

“If you kill him in our territory, he lacks the advantage?” he guesses, and Rue nods.

 

MK’s hand tightens on his waist, and he squeezes her side in response. They’ll help. They don’t owe Mandrake anything, particularly not protection.

 

“Very well,” he says stiffly, standing up straight, and not a moment sooner as a Boggan arrow lands between his feet.

 

They all turn to see Mandrake on that damned grackle, two more Boggans flying beside him.  Rue tenses, pulling out her knife as Mandrake’s bird hovers, and he sees MK pull out her knife as she pushes him toward Snowflake, mounting up quickly. He copies her, leaning forward to unsheathe his knife.

 

“Ronin, I thought you weren’t going to interfere,” Mandrake calls down, his bird snapping at Snowflake, who hisses back.

 

“You’re in our territory, and that’s where that neutrality pact ended,” he calls back, putting a hand to his ribs. MK eyes him over her shoulder as Snowflake rolls to avoid an arrow. “We need to end this quickly,” he says quietly, for MK’s ears alone. Rue and her guards have vanished into the underbrush, and Mandrake’s guards bank as they search.

 

“You said it,” she mutters, pulling the reins to put them in her teeth. She and Snowflake are perfectly synchronized, as the bat does not require MK’s guidance to react.

 

Ronin feels grudging respect for the creature as MK approaches Mandrake, and he aims an arrow at her. They were fools for leaving major weaponry behind as Snowflake banks hard to avoid the arrow, and MK growls something not worth repeating to Mandrake.

 

Ronin’s hand clenches around his knife. The blade is made of bone, and perfectly sharp, and if Snowflake can get him close enough, he can stab him. Or worse.

 

One of the guards flies up from Snowflake’s vulnerable side, and in turning to avoid it, MK falls off the saddle. Ronin reaches for her, but she’s already down, and he sees her flip mid-air to catch herself on a branch, before pulling herself up and running down it to tackle one of the guard Boggans.

 

Ronin pulls himself up on the saddle, letting Snowflake go where she will. “Just us again,” Mandrake smiles, palming a knife of his own. Ronin gets flashes of Jaeger dying, one of those selfsame blades in his side, and he clenches his jaw in response. He does _not_ consent to dying. He has things to say to Nod and MK.

 

“Not quite,” Ronin hisses, half-turning (his ribs protest), before throwing the bone knife, blade first, into Mandrake’s side.

 

Mandrake, not ready for it, is thrown from his bird’s back, and Snowflake dives, preventing the much-larger grackle from following his master down. Ronin clutches her neck as she spirals down, and he slides from the saddle once they’re both on the ground. Mandrake has pulled himself to his feet, and he sneers at Ronin, hand clutching the blade in his side. “Now you’ve enabled a generation’s worth of conflict among my people, for that twat didn’t kill me.”

 

“It wasn’t fatal, you bastard,” Rue says coldly from behind him. “What ruler of Rot can’t judge wounds?” Mandrake turns to—stab her, shout at her, but he never gets the words out, because her right hand slashes out, and with her dirk (he’d been mistaken in thinking it a simple knife), severs Mandrake’s head from his shoulders.

 

Rue’s chest heaves as Mandrake’s trunk collapses. His head rolls at her feet, and she nudges it away with her foot. One of her guards strips Mandrake’s cloak from his corpse and offers it to her.

 

“Wrap his head in it,” she says harshly, “and we’ll go.” She puts two fingers to her mouth, whistling harshly to the grackles perched on the branches above. The birds fly down, perching on the ground as she and her guards mount up. Where Mandrake’s guards are, he doesn’t know, but as MK walks out of the underbrush, he can see a rip in her sleeve and a bruise over a cheekbone, but she looks triumphant, so he can guess she caused at least one demise.

 

Rue looks at the two of them as MK stops by Ronin, and her smile is grotesque and cunning. “My thanks, for your assistance. Mandrake could never resist trying to kill you.”

 

He raises his brows as she departs, the grackles crowing loudly, and MK says, “Did she just use us?”

 

“I believe that is what happened,” he agrees, turning to mount on Snowflake, but his legs weaken beneath him, and MK catches him.

 

“Whoa, careful.” His vision is starting to go dark as she gets him onto Snowflake, and he pats her waist clumsily as they take off.

 

“You did well, you will bear fine children,” he mumbles.

 

He can feel her laugh where it vibrates through her chest. “Um, thanks?”

 

“It was no....”

 

\--

 

He wakes up to Finn, Nod, and MK in his room. Finn and Nod are at the small table, going over reports, and MK is seated in the chair next to his bed, embroidering something carefully. She notices he wakes up first, and she moves her embroidery to his bed before rising and helping him sit up. “Water,” he croaks, and she fills a cup from the pitcher on his nightstand.

 

Finn and Nod get up, making their way over to him as he drinks from the cup MK’s given him. “This is starting to get familiar,” Nod says, his mouth quirked in a strange smile as he shoves his hands in his pockets. “Quick, Finn, someone injure me so it feels normal.”

 

“I volunteer,” MK says sweetly.

 

Nod makes a face at her as Finn says, “Only you, Ronin, I swear.” He passes a hand over his eyes, before grinning. “You managed to single-handedly—“

 

MK coughs lightly.

 

“All right, with MK here, managed to solve our Boggan problems for the time being. The new queen, Rue, sent a message last night to say there is a truce while she settles her rule, and once she’s dealt with the nastier aspects of Mandrake’s remaining influence, she’ll meet with Queen Marigold to talk peace terms. She made sure to thank you specifically.” Finn looks at him, more seriously. “I got MK’s report on what happened, and you were an idiot for doing this, but your idiocy allowed for all of this, so I can’t chew you out as much as I’d like.” He sighs. “Anyway, the healers have said you managed not to worsen your current injuries, and you should be healed—with steady medication and check-ups—within the month, and let me tell you, we’ll be ready to have you back.”

 

Ronin opens his mouth, but closes it. He hasn’t parsed through his thoughts yet, but once that happens, he and Finn will be having a discussion.

 

“In the meantime, I’m taking lessons from the healers,” MK says quietly. “Only in the mornings, so I can still take part in social events, but since the queen is to wake within a week and a half, I want to be useful.”

 

“Nod got an invitation to join the Queensguard,” Finn says, picking up his helmet. His hair is in a strange...fluff today, and Ronin despairs of him more. “Thought you should know.”

 

“We need to talk about that,” Nod agrees, “but not necessarily today.”

 

“Seems like you solved the world’s ills without me,” Ronin comments.

 

Finn’s smile is slight, but there. “Not all of them, but most of them.” He puts on his helmet. “Rest up, General.”

 

As Finn leaves, Nod moves over to MK, putting his hands over her shoulders, and she smiles at him, before looking at him. “I think it’s time we had that discussion you’ve been pushing off,” MK says, resting her hands in her lap.

 

“I just woke up--.”

 

“There’s always an excuse,” MK says. “No more. We’re talking about this. Nod, lock the door, I don’t want us to be disturbed.”

 

Nod obeys, but he at least looks as uncomfortable as Ronin feels.

 

“I’m going to lay all of my cards on the table, right now,” MK’s voice is even, but her cheeks have pinked. “I’m attracted to the both of you, but it goes more than that. I’m not trying to pressure either of you into anything, but in the interest of full disclosure, there it is.”

 

Nod swallows, before saying, “Um. Yeah. What she said.”  MK looks up at him, and he sighs. “I know that, um, you and I have talked about it, but while the idea’s still...weird, I’m not against it. That’s all.”

 

The words won’t dislodge from his chest, but he remembers what he thought as he was forcing Mandrake down. He owes them. He clears his throat, saying, “Um.” He has never said ‘um’ in his _life_ and he despairs. “Yes. I concur.”

 

“Concur to what?” MK’s eyebrows raise.

 

“—All of it. I’m still—grieving, and...this isn’t easy.”

 

“It isn’t every going to be easy,” Nod says unexpectedly, and MK looks up at him as he places his hands on her shoulders again. “I talked to Mom about this, while you guys were...working on meeting and greeting.” MK winces—must’ve been her term. “I mean, Mom and Dad—they were it. Everything you could’ve wanted, it was them,” he squeezes MK’s shoulders. “Mom told me that that kind of relationship—it was work. It’s always going to be work, especially when you’re with someone who’s married to the job too.”

 

“I need to talk to Dad,” MK says, wrinkling her nose. “Letters aren’t enough, but you guys have been there for me for this entire thing—god, the thing with the Greater Courts seems like a lifetime ago. And yeah, okay, there’s been some hiccups,” and both he and Nod deserve that, “but this is my life now, and while this isn’t how I would’ve chosen for it to happen, I’m glad for this.” She smiles, and her face lights up, and it reminds him of Tara’s smile—it makes him smile too, if only slightly. “I’m getting things accomplished, and okay, Society still makes me want to stab my eyes out with a _spoon_ , but I’m—getting better. I’m learning. And I wouldn’t’ve gotten to do any of this if you guys hadn’t put yourselves in my corner, so...I’m grateful.”

 

“How do you stab things with a spoon?” Ronin asks at last, mouth twitching slightly.

 

MK’s mouth quirks like she’s holding in laughter. “Well, with adequate force, anything can do anything?”

 

“And spoons have a rounded tip, so it could happen,” Nod adds, shoulders shaking slightly.

 

“Or it could just been your feelings about spoons bubbling the surface,” Ronin remarks, adjusting his body as he sits upright.

 

“That’s true too,” MK giggles, pressing a hand to her mouth. Nod guffaws, and Ronin allows himself to chuckle once.

 

He’s forgotten what it’s like to laugh with other people beside Tara, and while the thought hurts, it doesn’t hurt like grief. It hurts because it reminds him what experiences he’d allowed himself to pass by.

 

“I can’t get over how beautiful the sunsets are here,” MK says softly, looking out the window. He turns to see where she’s looking, and sure enough, the sky is painted in rich reds and purples over the tops of the trees.

 

He looks back at her to see Nod squeeze her shoulders again, and she smiles softly. “I can’t imagine living anywhere else,” she admits, leaning into Nod’s hold.

 

“That’s good,” Nod says dryly, but he doesn’t say anything more, and they watch the sun set together in companionable silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MK and Ronin's exchange about spoons comes directly from an interview Rachel Maddow had with Jon Stewart, couldn't resist.


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I need to make something very, very clear.
> 
> I am a university student who wrapped up finals around a week and a half ago, and I also work retail. In case you haven't noticed, these are the holidays, and my hours tend to pick up, and given that the majority of the people that I am working with are rude instead of not, it's fair to say I have limited emotional energy and so I must conserve what I have for work.
> 
> Posting this? It creates a drain on me.
> 
> My finals were incredibly stressful, and they capped an already stressful semester. Scratch that, the last _year_ has been stressful. Last year, around this time, my grandmother had been in the hospital for two weeks with congestive heart failure; we lost her in June. This is the first Christmas we'll have without her, and given that I was very close to her, this is a hard year for me.
> 
> In addition, I have an amazing girlfriend and a family I'm helping take care of.
> 
> Writing thousand lifetimes? Something I do for fun. This is not an obligation. So I can understand that my lack of posting for the last two weeks is disappointing, but given the time of year? More than fair. I kept meaning to update but I just never had the energy to do so. In fact, I still don't, and I'm posting this while grumpy and angry.
> 
> And so, for the first time, I begrudge posting the second to last chapter.
> 
> And before you ask, no, I don't know when I'll post the last chapter.

**29\. Promise**

 

Everyone’s in their best for waking the queen and heralding the return of spring. Duare helped him with putting on his ceremonial armor (and while prior to his injuries, he’d objected to a valet, now he finds he is more dependent on Duare’s quiet assistance and support, and that, more than anything else, tells him what he needs to know), and Nod’s with his group, spiffy in his armor.

 

Since Ronin’s going as Clan Lord, not just General, he’s affixed his clan’s device to his armor. He doesn’t require as much preparation as MK, who’s been up since before dawn with Giula and Sona. From what he’s seen since _he_ got up, there was bathing involved, and that takes time.

 

It’s worth it, for when he’s waiting for her at the door, she comes down the stairs, gowned exquisitely in a deep green dress with a lighter green cape attached at the shoulders, a sachet of three miniature calla lilies clasping it at her neck. Her hair is loose down her back, with another calla lily pinning back her bangs, and she’s wearing a simple round quartz crystal on a white cord. He offers her his arm as she picks up the skirt of her gown with her hand, and she takes it.

 

She’s shaking slightly.

 

“She isn’t going to reject you,” Ronin reminds her as they join the crowd of well-dressed people heading into the citadel. He can see, as her steps jostle her skirt, that she’s wearing sensible boots, and his mouth twitches.

 

“Still, it’s a lot of people, and—I’m not performing,” she says from the side of her mouth, smiling at various Clan Lords, who all greet her in their way. They all greet _him_ as well, because this is the first time he’s been out and about in Society since before the Boggan attack. His ribs are still bound, but they’re healing nicely.

 

“You’ve already met these people, who is the queen to them?”

 

“The person who can decide my fate?”

 

“There is that,” he says lightly, and she nudges his arm, putting on her Society smile as they stop in the citadel above the entrance to the queen’s chambers. The number of those being introduced to the queen is fairly small for this year, only two Snapdragon Jinn and MK.

 

The cheerful muttering of the crowd dies down as they settle in, waiting for the light to hit the queen’s door at just the right angle. Once that happens, the forest itself calls her to them, and she will wake up.

 

Ronin remembers the first year Tara woke up from the Sleep. She had been fairly disoriented, and it took her a few years to get used to waking up and immediately facing her people.

 

Queen Marigold is younger than Tara had been, and that could mean she finds the transition easier or harder.

 

The two Snapdragon Jinn look nervous (their petals have flattened) as they twitch their hands over their garb. MK’s hand has tightened on his arm, but she appears the most relaxed out of the three of them. The light hits the door and the crowd breathes in as one, and exhales when the door opens and Queen Marigold steps through. She beams at them, and the crowd breaks out into cheers.

 

Instead of heading for them, the queen goes to her mother first, throwing her arms around her. Ronin looks around the crowd, _daring_ them to say something. If any of them are old enough to remember Tara’s first awakenings, they’ll remember she did something similar with her parents as well.

 

No one will meet his eyes, so he turns to look forward, satisfied.

 

The queen turns from her mother to face the three waiting for her. The Snapdragon Jinn (Ronin is certain that they’re siblings, just as he knows they are older brothers), step up first, curtseying to the queen.

 

Queen Marigold beams at them, kissing their cheek and sending them back to their families. Their families all breathe a little easier—while it has been several decades since Tara didn’t accept anyone (it was specific circumstances), the fear remains.

 

And then MK unwinds her hand from his wrist, and she steps forward.

 

Queen Marigold’s smile threatens to crack her face, and as MK starts to slide into the curtsey that Ronin pretends not to know how long she worked on it with Mara and Anastasia, the queen rushes over to her, throwing her arms around her.

 

MK takes a step back to anchor herself, her arms wrapping around the queen.

 

Ronin looks to the side as Nod slides in next to him. “That’s good,” Nod observes, back straight and helmet at the appropriate angle, for once.

 

“Indeed,” he agrees, seeing Queen Marigold finally let go of MK and link her arm through hers, taking her around as she checks on the different Clan Lords and associates. MK smiles as she and Queen Marigold make the rounds, and as Queen Marigold nears, he starts to kneel, wincing internally as his ribs protest.

 

Queen Marigold lets go of MK to put her hands on his elbow, bringing him back to a standing position. “Oh, General, that’s not necessary,” the queen trills, placing a hand on his chest as he stabilizes his stance. “You’ve done so much, you don’t bow to us.”

 

Magic is streaming from her hand on his ribs, and he feels his ribs expand, just a little, before they shrink again. The pain’s gone, and he feels young again. The queen sparkles at him, clearly pleased with herself. She leans up on tiptoe to kiss his cheek, murmuring, “Your ribs are all healed, Tara told me what you did. Thank you.” She backs away, taking MK’s arm again as she continues the rounds.

 

Queen Marigold mentioning Tara still hurts, but it’s not the punch to the stomach that it could be. “So now you’re all healed,” Nod comments in an undertone as Queen Marigold tows MK around. MK looks to be relatively amused. “Does this mean you’re coming back to work?”

 

“We have a few things to discuss,” Ronin replies at the same volume. “Such as you joining the Queensguard.”

 

Nod winces. “I put in my application for it before MK got dragged into all of this.”

 

“I may still question your motives, given your ongoing discussion with the queen prior to those circumstances,” Ronin tells him, his eyes on the queen.

 

“It may have been a condition of that discussion,” Nod answers.

 

Well. That makes things interesting. But then, Nod’s actions on the Summer Solstice could definitely be construed to say that his were the deciding actions that night in Mandrake’s defeat. It doesn’t surprise him that Queen Marigold wants him near.

 

“We still need to discuss it,” Ronin observes.

 

“And MK still needs to talk to her father. Discussions all around,” Nod says.

 

“Indeed,” Ronin agrees, a touch mournfully. MK has had some hiccups, but she has done very well out of her father’s influence. Once he’s back in her life, he might bring back all that damage.

 

Or talking to her father might bring her a sense of closure and she can fully engage with no baggage holding her back.

 

Either option seems equally likely. He claps a hand to Nod’s shoulder. “You can handle that aspect.”

 

“Now who’s being a coward?”

 

Ronin cuts his eyes over at Nod. “It’s not about being a coward. It’s about willingly removing myself from a situation that will frustrate me.”

 

“Since when do you do that?” Nod asks, entertained.

 

“Since I discovered I have better incentives,” Ronin replies, smirking a little bit.

 

“Oh, come on, there aren’t frustrations you enjoy?”

 

Ronin eyes Nod. “You’re leading to something.”

 

“Am I?” Nod asks blandly. If that’s the tone he uses, no wonder Nod hates it.

 

“I should rescue MK from her face freezing in her social smile,” Ronin excuses himself from Nod’s filthy smirk, walking to MK’s side, and the queen relinquishes her with a grin and a promise to “get caught up later.”

 

“Thank you,” MK says in an undertone, nodding at the Jinn they pass. Nim’s musicians have set up shop and are already filling the citadel with their music, and there’s an area set up for dancing. The Leafmen—like Nod—are interspersed through the crowd on his orders. With Rue as the new Boggan queen and truce called, the Oestara ceremony should be safe, but then, Tara’s pod ceremony should have been safe too.

 

He’s taking no chances.

 

“Was she too much?”

 

“Oh no, with the exception of a few choice statements, she was exactly what she looks like—a precious, precocious eleven-year-old. It’s the other people who kept making polite insults about why me, of all people, should be on the queen’s arm. It’s not my usual circles, and I think she was mostly oblivious, which is probably for the best, all things considered.”

 

“Which families were these?” he asks mildly.

 

She glances up at him. “Their sigils were a blue rose, a green bear, and a yellow iris. Sound familiar?”

 

“Don’t worry about it,” he says easily. He’ll take care of it.

 

She raises her brows. “Really.”

 

“Indeed,” he confirms. “It’s handled.”

 

“All right,” she says, smiling at some of the Leafmen, who break composure and beam right back, despite being right in front of their general. He’s not as bothered as he would normally be.

 

MK, whether he likes it or not, is inextricably tied to the Leafmen now. It helps that they like her.

 

“So what’s the deal about Nod joining the Queensguard?” she asks as they finally find a quiet corner.

 

“They have a lower life expectancy than the rest of the Leafmen,” he explains, sipping from his small glass of honeysuckle cordial.

 

“What?” she asks blankly, clutching her glass of blackberry wine.

 

“Oh, there are multiple benefits. The best of the best tend to join the Queensguard.” Guessing what her question is going to be, he says, “Tara wanted me to be General—there’s only a captain of the Queensguard, and they defer to the General. Before she was chosen, she and I discussed the changes we would like to make in the Corps., and she told me after she was chosen that she’d like to see me make them.”

 

“But Nod’s been invited to join the Queensguard,” she says slowly.

 

“He hasn’t said yes,” Ronin says, draining his glass. “We need to discuss the ramifications.”

 

“And I need to talk to Dad, I know, I know.”

 

A passing page refills his glass, and once zhe’s gone, he looks at her. “There are certainly discussions worth having.”

 

She raises her wineglass. “Oh yes.”


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter, guys. This fic has been going on since last summer, and thanks to all of you so much who left such lovely reviews, they mean a lot. 
> 
> I know close to the end, posting became incredibly sporadic as I approached the end of my college semester (and my lack of motivation that hit my classwork also, er, hit my drive to post on a regular basis), but thanks for sticking with me this far, it means a lot.

**30\. Future**

“Are you serious?” Finn demands, shoving his chair away from the table to stand up. “This is everything you’ve ever wanted!”

 

“Priorities change,” Ronin says, leaning back in his chair to watch Finn pace.

 

“Is this because you lost Tara, because that’s not a good enough reason--.”

 

“It is certainly a reason,” Ronin says quietly, “but not the major one. I’m getting old, Finn, and the queen can’t heal me every time I have a major injury, and while I have no intent to die, that doesn’t mean I won’t languish with long injuries, which is not something I want.”

 

Finn runs his hands through his hair agitatedly. “I’m not meant to be a General, I’m a great second-in-command.”

 

“You’ve done very well,” Ronin disagrees. “And you certainly don’t have the biases that I have had.”

 

Finn glares at him, but doesn’t say anything. Nod is the glaring issue in the room that they’re not really touching. “Why?” Finn asks at last, seating himself again. “Have you been planning on promoting me all along?”

 

“You’ve had the potential from day one,” Ronin tells him. “You got here through skill and experience, and I think you can do this. I’ll stay on for a year, just to assist you with the transition, and then I’ll step back into a training capacity. I’ll be the first general to retire instead being killed in the line of duty in centuries. Please, let me have that.”

 

Finn sighs, leaning back in his chair. “How long have you been planning this?”

 

“I’ve been planning on retiring for at least a year and a half,” Ronin says dryly, folding his hands on the edge of the table. “The reasoning for doing so has changed.”

 

“I know you’ve been grooming Nod to take over,” Finn starts, but Ronin shakes his head.

 

“He’s not ready, even if we haven’t discussed the Queensguard,” Ronin says quietly. “He could be, given more years of experience, but he doesn’t think the right way.”

 

“He only sees the path in front of him,” Finn says, nodding.

 

Ronin inclines his head in agreement. Chess is a good way of measuring how a person’s mind works; Nod struggles with it, whether long chess or blitz chess. He second-guesses himself, and he doesn’t look at all of the options. That’s not a good trait in a general. While Nod could cultivate it (Ronin’s known a few Leafmen who’ve been able to do that, and they went on to be very successful), he has to have the will, and he’s not sure Nod does.

 

Nod certainly has the skills to progress in the ranks, and that he wants Nod to do, but Nod’s never going to be general, not at this point.

 

“And MK?” Finn asks, a hint of amusement in his tone. “How much of this is based on the fact you want a family?”

 

Ronin coughs a little. “I—excuse me—”

 

“It’s fine. I know you’ve wanted a family for a long time,” Finn says, hiding his laughter, but Ronin can see it. He glares. “And the fact that you happen to have two partners is just for the best.”

 

“What are you implying?”

 

“You need taking care of,” Finn says, sitting up and propping his chin on his hand. “You’ve spent your entire life taking care of everyone—your parents, your sister, Queen Tara, Nod—it’s time you were taken care of.”

 

Ronin clears his throat. There's a strange lump in it. “I—thank you.”

 

Finn gets up with a sigh. “I’d better get back to training. We’ve got the rookies in for training, and I’m better at the introduction than...others.”

 

“You’re good with people,” Ronin agrees, standing up as well. “You’ll do well as General.”

 

“When are you going to announce this?”

 

“Soon,” Ronin says. “There are a few other things we need to discuss first.”

 

Finn nods, pulling his helmet on. “I’m still not entirely happy with this,” he warns him. “But I understand what you’re telling me and at least you’re giving me a year’s worth of warning.”

 

“I wouldn’t spring a decision of this caliber on you,” Ronin answers, getting up to walk Finn to the door.

 

“Thank you for that, at least,” Finn says dryly, nodding to MK as she comes in. She’s not trailed by Giula or Nod, so she must have talked to her father, if how flyaway her hair is is anything to go by.

 

He holds the door to let her pass, and she unpins her hair as she passes him, shaking out the leaves—must’ve flown hard, then. “I’ve talked to Dad,” she says flatly, entering his study and flopping in one of the chairs.

 

Ronin closes the door behind them, seating himself more carefully in his chair. “Oh?”

 

“Turns out he _has_ been getting my letters, but has found difficulty in finding a font and paper small enough to send back his replies,” she says, wrinkling her nose. “He’s glad to see me okay, and equally glad that you’ve adopted me, for all intents and purposes.”

 

“You seem less than happy,” he observes as she drags her hand down her face.

 

“I get that it’s difficult to send letters back,” she says at last, hugging her knees to her chest. “But...it took him, hm, how long has it been since I was shrunk again?”

 

“6 months?” he asks helpfully.

 

“It took him _six months_ to figure out how to contact me?” she sighs. “He’s falling back into bad habits. Either way, he wants us to talk weekly, if I can manage it, and—well, it’s fair.” She sits upright. “Did Finn talk to you about the Intelligence idea?”

 

“That’s not what we discussed,” he says carefully, starting to pull the omnipresent pile of paperwork toward him.

 

“What did you discuss, then?”

 

“My pending retirement,” Ronin says, and he’s rewarded by MK falling out of the chair with a loud ‘oomph!’

 

“—what?” she demands, standing upright and brushing off her leggings and tunic. “You’re a great general, why do you want to retire?”

 

He gives her a Look. “I’ve taken more risks because I am compromised,” he says, shuffling through the paperwork for the most urgent. “And—I’d like to be the first general who retired instead of being killed in the line of duty.”

 

“Does this have anything to do with Nod and me?” she asks anxiously, sitting down again. “I would never ask you to stop doing what you love--.”

 

“It is partially due to you,” he allows, “but not for what you think.” I want to be around, he thinks, because you need it.

 

And though he dares not contemplate it for longer than a moment, he thinks wistfully of children filling their empty home.

 

“Has every general before you really died in service?” she asks when he doesn’t complete his sentence.

 

He refocuses. “Yes. The Corps. don’t have the highest life expectancy, and Generals tend to make themselves large targets.” They both glance at his white vest—which would be stark against the greens, reds, and muted whites and greys of the uniform.  “I would like to retire. I’ll still run training and the like, but it’s time for Finn to take over. My mistakes with the Boggans this past winter proves that.” He’s not as capable at compartmentalization as he used to be.

 

He’s surprised when he feels her wrap her arms around his shoulders—he hadn’t even seen her get up. She kisses his cheek, before pulling back. “I know that this is what you love, that’s all.”

 

He pats her hand on his shoulder, a little embarrassed. “Besides, someone has to throw parties with you.”

 

She grimaces, letting go of him. “ _Ugh._ ”

 

“And we still need to discuss a few things,” he adds absently as she heads to the door. If he recalls correctly, she has tea with the ladies this afternoon, and she needs to change her clothes.

 

“Yeah, I know, I’ll be back in time for dinner,” she says, waving her arm as she leaves him alone in the sanctum of his study.

 

He smiles to himself, briefly, before focusing again on paperwork.

 

\--

 

Nod runs late to dinner, but not by much. Both he and MK are awaiting Luan’s most recent experiment, and Belle has poured their water (he’s not against wine with dinner, but not the same amount that their peers consume it, and MK has agreed, having now seen the ladies grow incredibly tipsy over multiple lunches. He senses she views public drunkenness with distaste), and finally Nod rushes into the dining room, past Liliana with the first course. “I’m sorry! Training ran long, I needed to give my sergeant a report—this smells amazing.” He kisses MK’s cheek before sliding into his chair, beaming at the housemaids.

 

Belle giggles a little, but Liliana looks ahead stoically, and Ronin catches MK’s sharp Look at Belle, and that amuses him—she hadn’t struck him as the jealous sort.

 

“Thank you,” MK says gracefully as Liliana lays the food on the table. “Tell Luan it really does smell amazing.”

 

Nod’s eyebrows look to be in danger of jumping off his forehead. Ronin hides his smirk as he sips from his water glass, because Nod is clearly suspicious of MK.

 

“We’ll be ready when you need us,” Liliana says, tugging Belle with her out of the room, closing the doors.

 

“What’s going on?” Nod asks suspiciously as soon as they’ve cleared the room.

 

Ronin puts down his water glass. “I think we need to put all of our cards on the table. MK, would you like to start?”

 

“No,” she says. “I’m always the one who starts these desperately uncomfortable conversations. It’s your turn.”

 

That...is fair, and he rests his arms on the table, leaning in a little. “I’m retiring in a year.”

 

Nod stares. It’s a shame he hadn’t been drinking anything, because there is a good chance the contents would have sprayed over the table. “...what?”

 

“You heard me,” Ronin says, amusement creeping in. This is not the decision of a moment, but from Nod’s reaction, he’s assuming it is. Oh Nod.

 

“But—why?”

 

“I want—need to step back into a training capacity,” Ronin says quietly. His food is growing cold, but this is more important. “I am emotionally compromised, and I cannot let my judgment be swayed by this.”

 

“Are you _kidding_ me?” Nod asks incredulously. Ronin raises his eyebrows as he takes a sip of his water. “You were Tara’s General, and you weren’t emotionally compromised by _that_?”

 

“Nod--,” MK starts, but he shakes his head.

 

“Not the time. You’re an amazing general, and you’re—throwing that away? For _what?_ ”

 

If this were any other time, he’d be flattered that Nod considers him an excellent general, when you take into account that Nod got the brunt of his bias. He feels his temper start to stir, but he clamps on it. Nod deserves an honest answer, not his kneejerk response. “I don’t want to die in service,” he says quietly, and Nod stops. “I’ve been...married to my duty for so long that my expectations were—a conversation for another time. I wanted to live for Tara, but now she’s gone.” Nod opens his mouth, but Ronin shakes his head. This is something he _needs_ to say. “But she would hate me for letting myself wither and die because she’s gone, and—I need to connect to family again. I will be staying on to train, because you’re right, the Leafmen have been my life since I was young, and I will not take myself out of it so easily. But—” He can’t put into words his sorrow at how many Leafmen he’s buried over the years, and how each time, after he’s said the words over the bodies and been there for their comrades and their families, and his—fear that he’ll be the next body in the ground. He’d tied everything he was to Tara, and he’s been struggling with finding out who he is without her.

 

Retiring is the first step of finding that out.

 

“This is what I need to do,” he finishes quietly.

 

MK looks at him, and he wonders if she picked up that internal monologue. From Nod’s frown, _he_ didn’t, but he lets it go.

 

“I need to know about the Queensguard,” MK says after a moment, turning her gaze to Nod. He cringes under that look. “Because I believe I was told that it means you have a higher chance of dying young.”

 

“It does,” Nod says frankly, drinking deep from his glass as if to shield himself from the ice in MK’s eyes. “But—she wants someone familiar with her, and she’s fond of me.”

 

“What’s wrong with her current guard?”

 

“Nothing! But they’re all a lot older than she is, and no one jokes with her.”

 

Ronin bites back the comment that that would not be appropriate, remembering just how often Tara used her vines to get his attention. He almost misses MK’s returning volley, “Oh? So you’re willing to live with dying younger if it means you can _joke_.”

 

“That’s not fair,” Nod says, frowning. “It’s a high honor, only given to the best of the Leafmen.”

 

“I can’t--,” MK breathes in deeply, before focusing on him. “Please don’t ask me to lose you in circumstances you can control.”

 

“There are members of the Guard who have lived longer than the expectancy,” he points out.

 

“And how many of them would that be?”

 

“About one in fifty, when you take into account all those who have died and discovered the average,” Ronin says quietly. “Like generals, the Queensguard always die in service. None have lived long enough to retire. Some Leafmen have been able to retire, be accepted back into their clans on the basis of family responsibilities or crippling injury, but the Queensguard rarely live past the dealing of crippling injury.”

 

“We’ve got a new treaty with the Boggans,” Nod retorts.

 

“And there are always dissidents,” Ronin replies, his voice hard. “Even in times of peace—uneasy or not—the queen is at risk for the odd Boggans who manage to get past the borders. The new queen has not brought all of her population under her control, and likely will not for years.”

 

“So you’re both against this,” Nod says, looking from them. “Even though that it’s a great honor.”

 

“It’s an honor that will kill you,” MK says flatly.

 

“I’m merely pointing out the dangers,” Ronin says, realizing his water glass is empty.

 

Nod sighs, resting his chin in his hand. “If it means that much to you two, I won’t join, okay? I’ll stay in the regular ranks. Queen Marigold asked me to put in my application, but that doesn’t mean I have to accept.”

 

MK blinks and she reaches out to squeeze his wrist.  “Thank you,” she says, her voice thick. “I can’t lose either of you.”

 

Nod squeezes her hand in response, a little surprised. Did he not put it together that they’re her link to this world? She may be accepted and she may be carving out a space for herself, but they’re still her links to this world.

 

Ronin realized this on her eighteenth birthday, when she broke down and confessed that she was afraid of them dying.

 

“All right,” MK says at last when she has herself under control. “So here we are. We’re good?”

 

“As can be in this instance,” Ronin agrees, jumping a little when MK reaches out and squeezes his wrist with her free hand.

 

She smiles at the two of them. “What’s next?”


End file.
